Cry to the Moon
by Danae3
Summary: Remus is sent to convince Moira, the woman he has always loved and Sirius' exfiance, to return to Hogwarts to help fight Voldemort. But will his friendship with Sirius survive? In that case, wil Remus? Time flips
1. Chapter 1

In mid-August, in the heart of Hogwarts Castle, a group of witches and wizards were crowded into the Potions classroom.  They had been meeting all evening, a very secretive meeting, regarding the newly risen Voldemort and the growing power of his Death Eaters.  All the regular faces were there, including the entire faculty, Arabella Figg, Mad-Eye Moody, Mundungus Fletcher, Arthur and Molly Weasley, and many more.

            "Dumbledore."  It was Arabella Figg.  She was a tiny woman, well into the later years of her life, while looking very able to take on anyone who approached her.  "Albus, I was wondering where O'Shaughnessy is?  I should think that under the circumstances-"

            "Christopher is dead, Arabella," someone in the crowd called out.  "You're losing your mind again." 

            "I know that," she sneered, clutching her wand.  "I mean his daughter."  She looked back up at Dumbledore.  "She helped us after Chris died, tracking You-Know-Who.  Exactly like her father, Albus.  Perhaps more powerful."

            "I know, Arabella.  I had a similar thought not long ago.  Moira has relocated to the United States, and quite possibly has no idea what has happened here.  Arthur Weasley has located her through the Ministry.  I am contacting her as we speak."

            A low murmur spread through the room.  From where he stood, Dumbledore could hear the questions.  Would she come back?  Everyone knew her history, and no one could blame her for leaving, but would she return when she was needed?

            Dumbledore's own thoughts mirrored these.  He had sent her an owl, but received no reply.  At this moment, Remus Lupin was on his way to visit her personally.  If she did not return, at least she would be forewarned of what was happening

Lupin leaned across a large wooden counter, trying to find someone who could help him.  A small woman approached and examined him through a pair of cat-eye spectacles.

            "Yes, I'm looking for a woman I heard might be here."

            "I'm sorry, we do not give out student information."

            "No, I believe she may be a professor."  He smiled.  "She's an old school chum.  I thought I'd look her up while I was in the States."

            The woman sat in a chair and peered at a computer monitor.  She pressed several keys on her keyboard.

            "Name?" she asked, without looking up.

            "Moira O'Shaughnessy."

            "Spell her last name, please."

            She typed the letters as Lupin said them.

 "Hmm," she peered closely at the screen.  "No, sorry.  Are you sure you spelled if right?  That sounds like a lot of letters for that name."

            "Yes, I'm sure."

            "Maybe she's married.  Changed her last name?"

            "I hadn't even thought of that."  It had been nearly fifteen years.

            The secretary smiled at him.

            "Ex-boyfriend?"

            "No.  Old friends.  We lost touch some years ago, and I heard she was here."

            "Nope, sorry.  Do you know what department she might be in?"

            "No, do you have any Irish-born professors here?"

            She looked at him over her glasses.

            "You kidding me?"

            Remus shook his head.

            "Look, I'm sorry, but we have hundreds of professor's on staff.  Unless you have something else to go on, I really can't help you.  I only have so many ways to search for someone."

            "Do you know anyone that can help me?  It's very important.  I must get in touch with her."

            "You're sure she's here?  We have several satellite campuses.  She could be at any one."

            "No, I'm positive.  I have it from a very reliable source."

            "Reliable sources have been known to be wrong."

"Do you have some sort of a directory I can see?  With the faculty's pictures?"

            "Is it that important?"

            "It is urgent."

            The woman disappeared into an office and returned several moments later carrying a very thick book.  

            "This book contains the professional information for the entire faculty.  I can't guarantee the accuracy of the pictures.  Most of them haven't had a picture taken since '79."  She passed the book to him.  "You can sit over there and look through it."

            Lupin sat in the wooden chair she had pointed to and balanced the large book on his knee.  Slowly, he began flipping through at random, hoping someone jumped out at him.  Most of the photos were of men his old age, but the clothes they were wearing, he knew, had been popular when he was in school.  He flipped a few more pages, glancing at each picture and dismissing them quickly.  He scanned the next page and stopped, laying his finger on a picture.

            Moira.  She was looking straight at him.  There was not smile, as if this muggle picture had known why he was coming for her.  He looked at the margin to find the name she worked under and nearly dropped the book.

            Moira Lupin? 


	2. Chapter 2

Lupin stood outside the auditorium doors where Moira was teaching a class.  He could dully hear her voice through the doors.  He opened them and slipped into the dark room, sliding into the first empty seat he found near the back.  Slides of castles and people long dead were being projected onto a large screen, and though he could not see her, Moira's voice explained each while a hundred students copied notes.

            "This slide" she said, as the picture changed, "is a portrait of Richard the Third.  As you can see, he looks nothing like the descriptions in Shakespeare's plays.  You have to remember, while this is called a history, it was nothing more than propaganda for the people.  Shakespeare used the information from Henry VII's historians who portrayed Richard as a degenerate, that even God himself was against him, making Henry's rule a salvation from the twist-armed hunchback."

            The lights came on.  Moira was standing on the edge of the stage.  She looked quite young in her khaki pants and a light blue blouse.  Lupin knew the black academic robes were not commonly used in the States.  Her red curls were tied at the nape of her neck.  

            "Alright guys and girls, our summer session is almost over.  Remember, our final is on Tuesday of next week.  There will be fifty-."  Her eyes landed on Lupin, sitting quietly near the back of the room.  He couldn't read the expression on her face, but he knew she was not smiling.  Several students had turned at her pause to see who she was looking at.  "There will be fifty multiple choice questions and two essays.  The AI's will let you know exactly what to study for during your discussion groups tomorrow.  I'll see you all on Tuesday."

            Students began packing up backpacks and filing out of the room.  Lupin kept his eyes on Moira, hoping she would not try to escape before he could reach her.  She was gathering up her notes, talking to two older students he guessed were her assistants as Lupin pushed his way toward the front against the flow of the students.

            "Make sure that you tell them to study the footnotes," she was saying as he approached her.  "I don't think most of them were paying attention to them during their readings."  

            The boy nodded, then pointed to Lupin, who was now standing behind her.  She turned and looked at him, her face betraying no emotion.

            "Remus," she said in a less than friendly greeting.

            "Professor Lupin."

            She winced slightly.

            "Angela, Brian, be in my office about fifteen minutes before the exam so we can go over the procedure."  The assistants nodded and disappeared through a side door.  Moira turned back to Lupin.  "Help me with this?"  She handed him a box before he could answer and took another into her arms, then exited through the same door Brian and Angela had just used.

            "Moira-"

            "Not here, Remus," she said without turning.  "We'll go to my office.  It's right upstairs."  They rode an elevator to the fourth floor, then followed a hallway that twisted and turned before stopping outside a simple wooden door.  Moira balanced the box on a bent knee while she unlocked her door, then entered.  Lupin followed.  She took the box from his hands and slid it under a table near the door.  She leaned against the edge of the table and crossed her arms across her chest.

            "What are you doing here?"

            "That's not much of a greeting for an old friend."

            "The key word there is 'old.'"

            "Dumbledore sent me."

            Her eyes closed.

            "Somehow I knew this wasn't a social visit."

            "I take it you didn't get his letter."

            "Got it, yes.  Opened it, no."

            Lupin cocked his head.  Something was different about her.  Her accent was almost gone.

            "You've done a very good job of hiding, Professor Lupin.  Does this mean we're related now?"

            "Stop it, Remus."  She crossed her room to her desk and pulled a file folder from a drawer.

            "May I ask why you chose my name?"

            "As opposed to what?  Black?  I'd rather not remind myself of him for the rest of my life."

            "But you'd rather remember me?  I'm touched."

            "I can trust you, at least."  She opened the door.  "Especially to tell Dumbledore you never found me."  

            Lupin slipped his wand from his sleeve and flicked it, closing the door.

            "Put that away!" Her voice was full of alarm.

            "I'm not leaving.  Not until you hear me out."

            "You know, you haven't changed.  Everyone thought you were so quiet and sweet when we were in school.  So shy.  Don't forget, Remus, I knew you."

            "And you've changed a great deal.  I never thought I'd see the day that you, of all people, would run away."

            She was silent for a moment.

            "All right.  We'll talk, but not here.  The last thing I need is for someone to start asking questions about you."

            "Tell them I'm your brother."

            "I don't have a brother."

            "Well now you do, Professor Lupin."

            "Let's go."

            "Do you live here, too?"

            "No.  We're going to my apartment.  And we're driving, like normal people do."

            "Like muggles do, you mean," he said as he followed her down the hallway.

            She stopped dead.

            "Remus, while you are here, you will do nothing that will make me seem anything but _normal_, and that includes using that word.  I've worked very hard to get where I am."

            "Yes, sister," he replied, enjoying himself immensely as she sighed heavily and lead him down the elevator to the garage and her car.  Within ten minutes, they were pulling into a gated apartment complex.  Moira waved to the security guard and pulled around to the back of the building where she slid into an empty parking spot.  She led him inside and up a flight of stairs that stopped at a door.  She unlocked it and stepped aside for him to enter.

They were barely inside when she pushed the door closed and turned several locks, ending by draping a small chain across the side and pushing it into a metal hole.

Remus looked around curiously as Moira disappeared into the adjoining kitchen.  It looked pretty normal: a couch sat against one wall, a very soft looking chair against the other.  A small television sat in the corner.  There were several lovely paintings on the walls, mostly landscapes he recognized as Ireland, but none moved.  A clock ticked away in the adjoining dining room.  Something was missing.

"Moira, where is your fireplace?"

"I don't have one," she answered from the next room.  He could hear her pouring something into glasses.

"What kind of witch doesn't have a fireplace?"

She reentered the room carrying two glasses of red wine.  "The kind that doesn't want to be found."  She gave him one of the glasses and motioned for him to sit on the couch before crossing to the dining room table to retrieve a sealed envelope.  Lupin recognized Hogwart's wax seal on the back as she turned it over in her hands.

"I knew as soon as I got this that someone would turn up."  She sipped her wine and placed it on the table.  Then opened the envelope.

Moira,         

The Defense Against the Darks Arts position is open and I am offering it to you.  You're expertise and talent will be much appreciated at our school.  Please contact me as soon as possible with an answer.

Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster 

"Why do I feel like Dumbledore wouldn't send you all the way out here to convince me to take a teaching position."

"Let's just say that your presence at the school is not merely for academic needs."

"Be straight with me."

"You may want to sit down."

"I'm fine."

"Voldemort has risen."

"I need to sit down."  She sat in the chair across from him, then stood again and paced the room.  "You're sure?  You've seen him?"

"A student did."

"A student?  You guys are putting up all your defenses because of something a student saw?  It was probably just a nightmare or a hoax."

"Let me rephrase that.  Harry Potter saw him."  The use of that name drew just the reaction Lupin had hoped for.  Her jaw dropped in disbelief.  Her eyes widened.

"Harry?  James and Lily's boy?  He's at the school?  And he saw Voldemort?  How?  What happened?"

Lupin explained the events of the Triwizard Tournament, as he had heard them from Dumbledore.  Moira sat silently throughout, listening.  Lupin told her of the portkey, and as he began to explain the spell used, she murmured to herself.

"Bone of the father, flesh of a servant, blood of an enemy."

Lupin nodded, surprised that she knew of the spell, and continued.  When he finished, Moira returned to her seat with her wine and thought in silence.

"So he's back.  And he has it out for Harry.  Jesus.  Is Harry still staying with Lily's sister?  Of course he is.  It's the safest place for him, unless-  Remus, the servant, who was it?  Tell me it wasn't Sirius.  Have they caught him yet?"

"No and no.  It wasn't Sirius, and they haven't caught him yet."

"Does Harry know who he is?  If he touches a hair on that boys head, I'll kill him myself."

"I got the impression you didn't want to be a witch anymore."

"I won't need a wand."

From the look on her face, Lupin believed that was true.  Moira had always been hot tempered, always a little more so with Sirius, but never to this extent.

"Well, I certainly hope you don't catch him either."

Moira stared at him as if were insane.  

"You asked me a moment ago whom the servant was," Lupin said, sipping his wine.  "I'm not sure you'll believe me if I tell you."

"Try me."

"Peter."

Moira laughed out loud.

"This is a joke, right?  Peter's dead, Remus.  I saw the street myself.  I was one of the first people on the scene.  Sirius killed Peter."

"And I saw Peter with my own eyes.  He is very much alive."

"So, wait, I missed something.  If Peter's alive, what's he doing with Voldemort?"

"He was James and Lily's Secret Keeper.  Peter betrayed them, not Sirius.  When Sirius realized what had happened, he confronted Peter.  Peter destroyed the street and scurried into the sewers like the rat he is."

"How long have you known?"

"Just over a year.  Sirius tracked him to Hogwarts where the little rat was playing pet to one of Harry's best friends."

Moira sat in silence for a long time, sipping her wine.

"So if Sirius is looking out for Harry," she asked, "why does Dumbledore want me?"

"You are a trained Auror.  Up until you left, you were on the track to being really great."

"I was on the track to being either really crazy or really dead."

"The future of all the great Aurors."  Moira's cold stare made him realize what he had said.  "I'm sorry, Moira.  I forgot for a moment."

"It's all right."

"You never told us why you chose that line of work.  It was because of your father, wasn't it?"

"I'm not a vengeful person, Remus.  I never have been."     

He leaned back in his seat, studying her carefully.  His eyes took in her flawless face and hair, then slid down to her left hand which was covered in small scars that he knew led up to her shoulder.

"Moira," he said softly, "what happened to your hand?"

Her eyes narrowed.

"You know what happened."

"Remind me."  Lupin was careful to look her straight in the eye.  "It's been a very long time." 

"I got in the way of an Elemental Curse," she answered.  "My whole arm was engulfed in flames before I knew what happened.  But you knew that.  You used to visit me when I was healing."

"I did know that.  What made you go after Rosier on your own?"

"We caught him.  He ran.  I ran after him.  When I found him, he acted faster.  I reacted stronger."

"You killed him."

"You already know this story."

"Why kill him?  Why not just stun him?"

"Hasty decisions can be made when you're on fire."

"He's the one that killed your father.  You were injured because you went after him.  And the Potters were killed while you were healing."

"Care to add a little lemon juice to the salt in my wound?"

"It wasn't your fault, Moira.  Not them or anyone else.  You couldn't have saved them even if you were there."

"Did you come all this way to make me feel better about myself?  Because if you did, you're doing a rotten job."  She went to the kitchen and returned with a full glass of wine, carrying the bottle in her other hand.

"I'm just trying to figure out why you ran out on us."

"Everyone was dead or in prison.  I wasn't running out on anyone."

"Everyone but me."

"Don't tell me, I ruined your life too."

"Don't forget, Moira.  I was with you when you went to the Potters'.  I saw everything you did.  And all of my friends were gone too.  The difference is, I didn't run."

"Do you want a ribbon for bravery?"

"I want you to know you're not alone anymore.  I'm still here.  And so's Sirius and Harry.  You were practically his godmother."

"Christ, Remus.  Is there any more guilt you want to drop in my lap?  You thought Sirius was guilty too.  Don't look down on me because I broke off our engagement."

"I was talking about your relationship with Harry, not Sirius.  He should have grown up calling you Aunt Moira.  Instead, he's never met you."

"I think it's a little late for that, Uncle Remus.  How old is he now?  Fifteen?  He's practically grown."

"And he's trying to get a sense of his parents from people he barely knows.  Sirius and I are his only real link.  I'd say he'd love to meet you."

Moira stood.

"Are you hungry?"

"A bit."

"Do you want me to make something, or do you want me to just throw some raw meat in a bowl?"

Remus smiled and followed her into the kitchen where she began opening cabinets and rummaging through the refrigerator.

"I don't have much.  I don't do much entertaining."  She turned around and stared up at a cupboard that stood open.  "Chinese sounds good.  Let's order in.  I don't fell much like cooking."

Forty-five minutes later, they were seated on the floor of Moira's living room, sharing small white boxes of sweet and sour chicken, fried rice, and vegetable egg rolls.

"So tell me, Remus.  Aside from fighting the baddies with Dumbledore, what have you been doing all these years?"

"A lot of studying.  Trying to find a cure for my- condition.  I spent a year teaching at Hogwarts.  The Defense job."

"Really?  I though you might be good at teaching.  What happened?"

"Word got out that a werewolf was teaching at the school.  General parental panic.  I stepped down year before last."

"How did it get out?"

"Severus let it slip."

Moira nearly choked.

"Snape?  He's teaching there?  Is Dumbledore daft?"

"Yes and no.  He's still not much of a people person, but really quite good at what he does.  He was preparing the Wolfsbane Potion for me."

"And it just accidentally slipped that you were a werewolf to people who had no business knowing." 

"Maybe not so accidentally.  He has good reason to distrust me."

"That doesn't make it okay.  That's a guy who needs to get on with his life."

"And I forgot to take the potion the night we discovered Peter.  It was a full moon.  I could have killed someone."

"Is that how he escaped?"

"Now who gets the guilt trip?"  He finished his wine and replenished his glass and drank half of it.  It went down very smoothly.  His head was already beginning to spin, but he didn't want the night to end.  Truth be told, he had missed Moira quite a bit over the years.

"You were the only one I was sorry to leave," Moira said out of the blue, mirroring his own thoughts.  "I liked bantering with you.  You were practically my best friend."

"Practically?"

"It was a close tie with you, Lily, and Sirius."

"At least I beat out James."

"It's never comfortable to be best friends with your best friend's boyfriend." When she grinned at him, she looked exactly as she did when they were in school.  

"Beautiful."  The alcohol was taking over.

"What?"

"I always thought you were beautiful."  He closed his eyes.  The room was spinning.  When he opened them, Moira had disappeared.  She reappeared from a back hallway bearing blankets and pillows.

"I don't have a guest room, but you should be pretty comfortable on the couch."  She made up a bed for him and helped him lie down.  "Good night, Remus."

"Good night, Moira."  He wanted to kiss her.  He always had.  She took his hand.

"I have an early class, but I should be back by noon.  We'll have lunch together before you leave."

He stared up into her dark green eyes that drooped with drunkenness.

"All right."

She stood and turned off the lights, but he didn't hear her move off.

"I'm glad you came to see me, Remus."  

His ears picked up her movement down the hallway.  He pictured her tracing her finger on the wall as she walked as he had seen her do a hundred times in the past so she wouldn't walk past her doorway. 

"As am I."

_"Moira, we have to go.  Something's happened," Lupin said as he slid through her front door._

_"What is it, Remus?"  Her voice was panicked as he helped her fasten her cloak.  Her arm was still bandaged and hard to bend._

_"James and Lily.  He found them."_

_"How?"  She clutched her wand awkwardly in her right hand._

_"I don't know."_

_The apparated a few moments later in the Potters' living room.  It was a shambles.  He heard Moira cry out and turned to find her kneeling next to James' lifeless body._

_"He's dead," she said.  Her face changed.  "Oh god!  Lily!  The baby!"_

_  They raced up the stairs and ran into Hagrid coming out of the nursery, little Harry screaming in his arms.  "She's dead.  They're both dead.  Only little Harry here survived."  He looked sadly at the child. _

_She noticed the cut on his forehead, touched it.  "He's hurt!  Hagrid, where are you taking him?"  She was shaking.  Remus put his arms around her._

_"Dumbledore."_

_They followed Hagrid outside.  Sirius was just climbing off his bike.  He was deathly white.  "James!  Lily!"_

_"They're dead, Sirius.  He killed them both."_

_"They can't be!  No, God, please!"_

_"Sirius."  Moira slid out of Remus' arms and into Sirius'.  Remus slinked off to the side.  _

_"Hagrid, give Harry to me." Sirius cried, still holding Moira.  "I'm his godfather.  I'll look after him!"  _

_"Can't, Sirius.  I have me orders from Dumbledore."_

_"Take my bike, then.  Get him there quickly."_

_"I can't-"_

_"Just go, Hagrid.  I don't need it.  Get Harry out of here!"_

_Sirius looked angry as Hagrid mounted the bike with little Harry and sped away.  He had his wand out._

_"Sirius, what happened?  How did he find them?"  He didn't answer her. His eyes were lit, a look of insanity at his lips.  "What are you going to do?"_

_"Peter."  He said the name venomously, and then disappeared from sight._

_"Remus, where's he going?"  Her eyes were desperate as they landed on him.  _

_"I don't know," he answered, shaking his head._

_Moira just stared at him.  Her legs gave way and she was sitting in the grass of James and Lily's yard, her left arm dangling helplessly at her side_

_"What happened?" she cried as Remus kneeled beside her, wrapping his arms around her once more, attempting to comfort her.  "What happened?"  Her face was buried in his neck. He could feel her tears hot against his skin._

_"I don't know, Moira.  I don't know." _

Lupin awoke with a start.  He was lying in Moira's dark living room.  He stared at the wall that separated them and wondered if she was dreaming the same memories.      


	3. Chapter 3

Lupin crossed his kitchen and set his plate in the sink.  Sirius following him like an excited puppy.

            "You went to see Moira?  Why didn't you tell me?"

            "I didn't know I was going until Dumbledore told me" was Lupin's simple reply.

            "Why didn't he send me?"

            "You're not thinking clearly, Sirius."  Remus leaned against the counter.  "I'm sure it would have gone well if her escaped convict ex-boyfriend suddenly showed up where she works."

            "But you told her, right?  You told her I was innocent."

            "I did.  Right after she threatened to kill you with her bare hands."

            "She wouldn't, you know."

            "You didn't see the look in her eyes.  I think she would have.  Besides, you two have a complicated past.  It might have gotten in the way."

            Sirius paced the small kitchen, running his fingers through his hair.  Lupin was glad to see that his old friend was finally starting to look healthy again.  He had gained some weight, and for longer periods of time, his eyes lost that look of desperation they had adopted in Azkaban.

            "So is she coming back?  Is she going to take the teaching position?"

            "I don't know.  She didn't seem too keen on the idea.  I got the impression she might be happier to stay where she is."

            "What's she like?  Has she changed much?"

            "She's very much the same… and not at all.  At first, I though she was a totally different person.  She didn't even want to see me when I got there.  Very hostile.  And then as we started talking, it was like we were kids again."

            "What did you talk about?"  If Sirius had a tail, it would be wagging.

            "Voldemort, of course.  And you and Harry.  Her father.  She asked what I'd been doing all these years.  And before I left, I gave her my address, of course."

            "But you don't know if she's coming?"

            "I guess we'll find out from Albus."

            "You have two hours to finish the exam.  When you're finished, turn your papers in up here and leave through these front doors so you don't disturb your classmates who are still working.  Are there any questions?"

            "Can we use our notes?"  A wave of hushed laughter rose.

            "Only those you have memorized.  Anyone else?  No?  Alright, you may begin."  The sound of seals being broken on test booklets filled the room, then silence settled in as the students began the exam.  Moira motioned for her assistants to walk the aisles, keeping their eyes out for questions and the occasional student who hadn't studied and hoped for help from a neighbor.  The professor remained on the stage, her eyes sweeping over the room, but her mind wandered.

            Should she go back?  No, of course not.  She was under contract.  Besides, what good would it do?  She hadn't even thought about her wand in years.  No, she had thought about it.  She hadn't touched it.  Not to do magic, anyway.  True, she had cleaned it a few times.  And held it, just to feel its weight in her hand.  But she wasn't a witch anymore.

            Why hadn't she been more adamant with Remus?  'No, Remus.  I'm not going back.'  But then he had to mention Harry and her father.  He knew her too well.  Dumbledore must have known she couldn't say no to him.  He set her up.

            She'd send him an owl first thing- no.  She didn't know where to get a decent messenger owl around here.  She'd have to go see him.  Damn it.  If she walked into his office, she'd walk out with the job.  No.  She would be firm.  'I have a job.  I can't just pick up and leave.'

     High in his tower at Hogwart's Castle, Albus Dumbledore sat behind his large oak desk penning one of the many letters he had written of late to wizards and witches across the country, informing them that Voldemort had risen.  A knock at his door revealed Madame Trelawney, the Divination professor.

            "Good morning, Sibyl.  I hope you bring me good news?"

            "I have had a premonition, Professor.  One, I think, which will interest you.  _A lost child returns from the west seeking her past.  She will find her future._"

            "Ah, this is good news.  Any idea how soon?"

            "This moment."

"Nothing like waiting until the last moment, eh?" he asked with a wink.  

"Her fate is yet clouded, Professor," she said dramatically.  "Now, I must return to my tower.  My eye clouds as we speak," she added melodramatically.  With a dazzling flair of her green robes, Madame Trelawney turned and retreated back to her tower.

"Well, Fawkes," Dumbledore addressed the Pheonix perched on a chair near the door.  "It seems our 'lost child' is returning.  I believe Minerva should be showing her up momentarily."

A knock at the door swiftly followed those words and Professor McGonagall appeared inside, a wide smile spread across her face.  The first, Dumbledore noticed, in a long time.

"Professor, we have a visitor."  She moved aside so Dumbledore could see Moira O'Shaughnessy standing behind her.  She was not wearing robes, but muggle clothing: blue-jeans, a white tank top, and a gray jacket, which hung from her shoulders.  She carried a bag over one shoulder.  A ball cap covered her head, but when she looked up at him, Dumbledore could plainly see her eyes seeming to glow under the brim.

"Miss O'Shaughnessy," Dumledore said, taking her hand.  "Very nice to see you again.  It was been a very long time."

"You set me up," she said.  "You knew I couldn't say no to him.  That's why you sent Remus."

His dancing eyes confirmed his words.

"I knew Remus would persuade you somehow, but he was not sent to trick you into coming.  I merely thought it might be helpful to remind you of those you left behind."  He motioned for her to sit down.  She clutched her wand tightly as she did.  "I take it Remus informed you of the developments."

"Voldemort's back with a vendetta against Harry.  Sirius is innocent and Peter's alive.  My last fifteen years are topsy-turvy, so I'd say I'm caught up."

"You always had a way with words," he answered with a smile.

"So what do you need from me?"

"You will add extra protection to the school, for all the students, but especially where Harry is concerned.  You will also be fulfilling an open teaching position."

"The Dark Arts job."

"That is correct."

"Professor-"

"Call me Albus."

"Albus, you do realize I've never taught this before."

"Yes, I assume Defense Against the Dark Arts is not a regular course at American universities.  Not nearly as useful as Early British Literature, but I'm confident you can make the adjustment, Professor Lupin."  He smiled at her, letting her know he had spoken to Remus.

"So am I starting out the school year as the faculty joke?"

"No, Moira.  I was just having some fun with you.  Nobody knows who you've been except for Remus and myself."

"What did he tell you?"

"Nothing but that he found you and you talked together.  He was quite unsure whether you would come."

"But you weren't."

"I had my doubts, but I also had faith that when you were needed, you would come to us."

"Needed?"

"Moira, I'm sure I don't need to impress on you the danger in this situation.  Voldemort is back, possibly more powerful than before.  He has gathered his Death Eaters once more, and already the attacks have begun again.  I am afraid Harry is no longer protected from Voldemort's touch."

"That's why he used Harry's blood.  To break the spell that protected him."

"That is correct."  He beamed at the young prodigy before him.  "Unfortunately, the Ministry has turned a blind eye, refusing to believe what is happening."

"Who's the Minister?"

"Cornelius Fudge."

"Then we're in worse shape than I thought."

"It's not so bad as it seems."

"This from the guy at the top of Voldy's hit list.  I feel more confident already," she muttered, drawing another smile from Dumbledore.

"Don't feel confident yet.  You haven't met the students."  He passed several scrolls across his desk containing the class rosters.  Moira's eyes scanned the lists.

"I know several of these names, and too many of them are Slytherins.  Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle all are fifth year boys.  That couldn't have been planned any better."

"We do not judge the students by their parents."

"That's easy for you to say.  You didn't see first hand what their parents did."

"Don't be too sure, Moira.  The most dangerous enemies are not the ones we know about."

'True.  No one thought about Peter.'


	4. Chapter 4

Moira retired to her room to unpack the few belongings she had brought with her.  Most of her clothes and supplies, she had to have shipped to Remus'.  Surely, no mail truck came to Hogwart's, and Remus had agreed to accept her belongings.  

Unfortunately, to retrieve them, she would probably have to see Sirius.  Curiosity caused her to look forward to the owl that announced her packages had arrived, but at the same time, it had been so long.  The last time she had seen him, her colleagues and taken him into custody and dragged him off the street.

"One thing at a time," she sighed as she opened her suitcase and began unpacking her clothes to hang up.  She removed a stack of clothes, but her eyes settled on the wand she had laid aside on her bed.  Thoughtfully, she picked it up.  It wasn't very long, eight inches, and a dark mahogany color.  The grip, carved with ancient Celtic runes, still bore the scorch marks of the past.  How odd she hadn't noticed before.  She swished it through the air, leaving a trail of tiny silver stars.  A smile spread across her face as she slid it up her sleeve for the first time in many years.

When Moira reached to put away the rest of her clothes, she heard a voice behind her.

"Oh no, Professor.  I will put those away for you."  A house elf was running across the floor, its wide eyes bulging.

"No, really, I don't mind," she said, hanging up a blouse.

"It is my pleasure."  It pulled another blouse from her case.

"Tell you what," Moira said, staring down at the elf with her hands on her hips.  "I wanted to take a bath, but I didn't bring any salts.  Do you think you-?"

"Yes!  Yes, it is my pleasure!"  The elf disappeared, leaving Moira to finish her task.  It didn't take her long.  She didn't have much with her.  She laid her brush on a vanity table, then removed her jacket and hung it on the back of the chair.  A glimpse in the mirror drew her attention to her arm.  She hardly noticed them now, the little scars that made their way up her arm, reaching just above where the collar of her shirts sit.  Most people didn't notice them, but they stood out to her now, ever since Remus had asked about them.  Moira looked sadly down at her hand where Sirius' ring had left a red scar around her finger.  She touched it gingerly as if it would burn her even today.  She had worn the silver ring around her neck while she was recovering.  It had been too painful to wear.  And then?  She couldn't even remember where she had placed it.

With a sigh, she stripped off the rest of her clothes and, grabbing her robe from the bed, went into the bathroom.  The house elf had already drawn the bath.  She lowered herself into the water, letting the steam sweep over her as she immersed her head, then lay back to relax.   

            An hour later, Moira was brushing the curls out of her hair.  Giving up, she knotted it at the nape of her neck and slipped into a deep green robe for the faculty dinner.  Tonight, she would be introduced as a new teacher for the second time in her life.

            She sat next to Minerva McGonagall, who was very smiled brightly at her.  Hagrid grinned when she waved from across the table.

            "Moira O'Shaughnessy!  Image you back at the school!  Always like to see students come back."

            "Thank you, Hagrid.  I heard you finally received a teaching position. Congratulations."

            "Care o' Magical Creatures.  Dumbledore gave it to me two years ago, same year your friend Professor Lupin was here."

            Moira heard a huff beside her and turned to see Snape sliding into the chair beside her.

            "Severus," she said flatly.  "It's a regular reunion these days."

            "It's good to see you too, Moira," he answered darkly.  "I thought you had buried yourself in a cave somewhere."

            "Kind of like learning there's no Father Christmas, isn't it?"

            "Very close."

            Their attention turned to Dumbledore who was lightly tapping his glass with a spoon.  The table quieted and the headmaster addressed his staff.

            "Another year is about to begin in our school.  This is a very promising year with many bright students returning to us, one of whom is with us right now.  Moira O'Shaughnessy, as many of you may remember, was a student here several years ago, and is returning as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.  I know all of you will make her welcome."

            The staff applauded politely.  Dumebledore made a few more announcements before food appeared on the table and the staff began to eat.

            "Do you plan on staying longer than your predecessors?" Snape asked.

            "I plan on it.  You don't have any gossip so parents demand my resignation, do you?"

            "The slip about Remus Lupin's condition was not intentional."

            "He trusted you."

            "Remus was a fool."

            Moira eyed him carefully.

            "I'm not."

            "The last time someone was this openly hostile toward me, he turned out to be a Death Eater."

            "Don't worry, Severus.  My hostility is all me."

            "You've gained some personality since I last saw you."

            "A few years tracking your school chums will do that."

            "We're all on the same side here, Moira.  In case you haven't been informed, there are greater dangers than me out there."  He glanced at her hand as she raised her wine glass to her lips.  "What happened to your hand?"

            "That question has come up a lot lately."

            "Rosier?"

            "Why do people keep asking when they know the answer?"

            "Scars are a conversation piece."

            "Maybe where you come from."

            "After dinner, come to my office," Snape told her, lowering his voice.

            "Why?"

            "I assume you are not here merely to teach.  You are a former Auror.  Not many people know that, but I do.  If you are going to be hunting Death Eaters at this school, there are some things you should know."

            "And you're going to tell me?"

            "Yes.  Albus and I will."   

            "So tell me, Moira," said McGonagall, drawing her attention away from Snape, "what have you been doing all these years?"

            After dinner, several members of the staff remained in the Great Hall to chat.  Snape rose and spoke into Dumbledore's ear, then motioned for Moira to follow the two of them.  They did not speak as they made their way to the dungeon where Snape's office was located.

            "Is all this really necessary?" Moira asked as Snape shut the door behind them.

            "It is," he answered.  "Most of the staff is not aware of the information you are about to be given."  He leaned against his desk, but this movement did nothing to hide his tenseness.  It was screaming at Moira's trained eyes.

            "This is one of the most secret pieces of information you will be given while you are here, Moira," Dumbledore said.  "And in trusting it to you, Severus is trusting his life to you."  Moira glanced curiously at Snape, who had remained silent.  "You understand the importance of this, do you not?"

            "Yes.  Snape's life is at risk.  For what?"

            Snape rolled his sleeve up to his elbow and held his arm out for Moira to examine.  Burned into his inner arm was the Dark Mark, Voldemort's brand for all his Death Eaters.  Moira examined it closely and found that it was real.

            "I don't understand."

            "Severus is a Death Eater, or at least, he was.  About two years before Voldemort's downfall, he became a spy for us."

            She stared at Snape.

            "So you're a double agent?"

            "Double agent?"

            "Don't tell me Voldemort has a Death Eater at Hogwarts and doesn't expect information in return."

            "All information Severus gives is cleared through me first," Dumbledore answered.  "Voldemort knows only what I wish him to know."

            "Who else knows about this?"

            "Besides yourself?  Cornelius Fudge, Alastor Moody, Minerva, Filius, and Sirius Black," Snape answered grimly.

            "That's an impressive group.  And why are you telling me?"

            "You are here to help protect the school and the students."  Snape folded his arms across his chest.  "As such, you will have your ears and eyes open at all times, even without realizing.  It's what you've been trained to do.  In order to do my job, I will be disappearing at random.  My activities can be very suspicious to those who do not know.  I'd prefer you know before you kill me." 

            Moira remained silent, unsure what else to say.  This was quite a piece of information she had just been given.

            "Albus, you trust Severus?"

            "With my life, and the lives of my students," Dumbledore replied confidently.

            "Then so do I.  This information is safe with me."

            Dumbledore nodded as Moira reached out and shook Snape's hand.  

            Remus flicked his wand, causing a mop to steer its way around the kitchen tile as he wiped down the counters with a rag.  It the next room, he could hear a vacuum seeping through the carpet as Sirius put away books and papers and a hundred other items which had cluttered the living room.  Moira's belongings had arrived and she was coming tonight to retrieve them.  Remus was glad Sirius had been so nervous about her visit.  It only helped to hide his own excitement at seeing her again.

            Sirius walked in carrying a large vase of daisies.

            "What do you think?" he asked.  "Coffee table?"

            "I'm not sure those flowers make the right impression," Remus answered, trying not to laugh.

            "Why not?  She likes daisies."

            "Of course.  Daisies are very feminine.  And we are two men living together with daisies on the coffee table."

            "Oh.  Yes, I can see what that would imply."  With a wave of his wand, the entire vase disappeared.  "I guess I'm trying too hard."

            "Just a bit."

            "Okay," he sighed, running his fingers through his hair.  "What else needs to be done?"

            "That depends.  Were you planning on smelling like wet dog?"

            "Shower.  Yes.  I can do that," he said, wandering off toward the bathroom.    


	5. Chapter 5

First Year:

            Remus slid into an empty seat in his first ever class at Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  Glancing around the room, he didn't know anyone.  Well, he knew the other first year Gryffindor boys, but not very well.  Two of them, Sirius and James, seemed to already know each other.  Then there was the short one, Peter, but he mostly laid in his bed crying.  It had made Remus feel a little better.  At least he wasn't the only one nervous about being away from home, though he knew it wasn't for the same reasons.  What fear of discovery could Peter possibly have?

            He withdrew his copy of _A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_ from his bag and slid it onto his desk along with several sheets of parchment and a quill.  At the top of his first sheet, he wrote _Transfiguration, September 2_.   He glanced around.  The room was almost full except for a few empty seats, one of which was right next to him.  He slid his book over so it didn't look like he was sitting alone.

            "Oh, I'm sorry.  Were you saving this seat?"

            Remus looked up into the greenest eyes he had ever seen, made larger by a pair of wire-rimmed glasses.

            "No," he answered, sliding his book back in front of him.

            "Good," she answered, sitting next to him.  "I thought I was going to have to sit with a Slytherin."  

            Her red hair hung at her shoulders in tight little curls, held from her face by two enormous leather barrettes.  She began removing her own supplies from her bag, but stopped to wave at another student across the room.  Remus glanced over to see another Gryffindor girl with lighter red hair.  Lily Evans, he thought her name is.

            "Isn't this cool?" she asked, looking back over at him.  "Our very first class.  I'm so excited."

            "Me too," he answered.

            "I'm Moira.  Moira O'Shaughnessy.  You're Remus Lupin, right?"

            "Yeah."

            "I thought that's who you were.  And the short one's Peter, right?"

            Remus nodded.

            "Alright."  She glanced around the room.

            "And those two are James and Sirius?" she asked, pointing to the table shared by his other roommates.  "Which is which?"

            "James is the one with the glasses and Sirius has the dark hair."

            "There aren't many of us, are there?" she went on.  "My last school had about three times as many in a class.  Not in a classroom, of course.  But there would have been a lot more first years, I mean."

            "Where did you go?"

            "St. Patrick's Primary.  It's a muggle school.  The kids were nice though."

            "So are you-?"

            "No.  My dad just wanted me to go to a public school before coming here.  He said it would help prepare me for my future.  He wants me to work for the Ministry like him.  Muggle Affairs or something like that, but I'm not quite ready to decide the rest of my life yet."

            "Who is?"

            She smiled warmly at him

            "Yeah.  Who is?"

            Professor McGonagall cleared her throat and class began.  Throughout, Remus found himself glancing over at the girl who sat next to him.  Moira.  He smiled to himself.  His first real friend.  Maybe life here wouldn't be so bad.  He took notes for the remainder of the class, smiling happily to himself.  At the conclusion, they packed up their books to go to Defense Against the Dark Arts and crowded around the door with their classmates to leave.

            "Remus!"  Sirius Black threw his arm around his shoulders.  "Why didn't you sit with us?"

            "There wasn't an empty seat."

            "Yeah, well, that's where you ask someone to move.  And if that doesn't work, you slide a Filibuster on their seat."  He smiled mischievously.  "Come on.  Sit with us in the next class."

            Remus glanced over at Moira.

            "Go ahead," she mouthed.  Then aloud added, "I'll go find Lily."

            "She's pretty cool," Sirius said, watching her retreat into the crowd.  "What's her name?"

            "Moi-"

            "James!  I found Remus!  He's gonna sit with us!"  Remus was pulled along with the flow of students.  Once in the dungeon, she smiled at him again as he was pulled to a table with James and Sirius.

            "Can I sit here too?" Peter asked, dropping his books on the table.  "I'm never going to keep up with all this.  We already have homework!"

            "It's just reading, Peter.  Just skim it," Sirius said.

            James looked down the table, pushing his glasses back onto his nose.

            "It's not like they're going to give a quiz on the second day."  He glanced around.  "So has anyone met the girls yet?"

            "Remus has," Sirius answered.  "He was sitting with one in Transfiguration."  He pulled an apple from his bag and munched on it loudly.

            "Is she your _girlfriend_?" Peter asked.

            "Which one?" James asked.

            "Moira.  The red head."

            "That one?" he asked, pointing down the table at Lily.

            "No.  That one's Lily.  To her right."

            James and Sirius leaned way over the table.

            "The one with the frizzy hair," Sirius pointed out.

            "Oh.  So the one with frizzy hair is Moira.  And Lily has the lighter hair.  What about the blond and black haired ones?"

            "The blond is Lana or Ana or something like that," Sirius told him.  "I think the one with black hair is a Ravenclaw."

            "No," James said.  "I think I saw her in the Common Room last night."

            "You sure?" Sirius asked, biting again into his apple.

            "There's two of 'em," Peter said.  "Look, there's another in the corner."

            This time, Sirius stood up and looked around the room.  Turning toward the corner, he said loudly, "Hey, there is another one!"  James reached up and pulled him clumsily into his seat as the girls in back giggled.  Sirius waved at them, a wide grin on his face.

            Remus' own laughter was stifled by the tall professor who now stood in the front of the room.  His face was heavily scarred and he was missing two fingers on one hand.  He stared forebodingly around the room.

            "I hope you've all had a good laugh."  His voice was low, but carried through the spines of the entire room.  "You boy, your name," he demanded, staring at Sirius.

            "Black, sir," Sirius answered, unsure if it was even a question.  "Sirius Black."

            "You don't seem so serious to me, Mr. Black.  See that you make the proper adjustment for the remainder of the class."

            Remus snickered, despite the severity in the professor's voice.  His steel gray eyes turned on him.

            "You find Mr. Black funny?"

            "No, sir."

            "And you name is?"

            "Lupin, sir.  Remus Lupin."

            The professor's eyes narrowed.  

            "Ah, yes.  I heard you were coming."

            Whispers rose throughout the room, but were silenced by the professor's icy stare.

            "I don't recall asking for discussion," the professor snapped.  With a last long look at Remus, he launched into his lecture.  Remus sunk low in his seat.  What did he mean he had heard he was coming?  How many people could possibly know?  He would have to do a better job and blending in.          

            "What was all that about?" Sirius asked as they retreated from the room.  "He heard you were coming?"

            James broke in before Remus could answer.

            "He's probably just trying to intimidate you, Remus.  Make it seem like he'd been warned about you, or something."

            "Yeah," Remus answered gingerly. "Probably."


	6. Chapter 6

            At precisely seven-thirty, Remus heard a clattering in the fireplace and out popped Moira, her red hair glowing against her black robes as she began wiping the soot from her clothes.  

            "Remus," she commented, "you really need to have your chimney swept."  She smiled broadly.

            Lupin stepped forward and clasped her hand warmly.

            "Moira, I'm glad you're here."

            "Well, of course.  I mean, you have all my stuff."

            "No, I mean _here_.  England.  Hogwarts."

            "I think you knew from the moment you showed up that I-"  She stopped mid-sentence and listened.  Remus strained to here Sirius' footsteps upstairs.  "Is he here?"  she asked.

            Remus nodded, and at just that moment, he became aware that Moira's attention was no longer on him, but trained on the foot of the steps.  He turned and discovered Sirius standing there in exactly the same fashion as Moira: silent and frozen, unsure what exactly to say.

            "Sirius," she said quietly.  Remus wasn't sure if it was a whisper or a gasp, but it certainly wasn't laced with the venom he had heard previously in his name.  He noticed their eyes were locked as Sirius crossed the room and grasped her hand in his own.

            "It's good to see you, Moira.  It's been a very long time."  His voice, too, was soft, causing Remus to feel out of place.

            "A very long time.  You look surprisingly- well."

            "Thank you.  You too."  They both smiled.  Though their conversation was short and sterile, Remus heard much more in the words than were said.  He wasn't even sure if they were aware of his presence.  

            "Would you like something to drink?" he asked.  The words seemed to break their trance.

            "Yes, please," Moira said.  Remus retreated to the kitchen to fetch wine and glasses.

            Some hours later found them pushed back from a well-eaten meal, sipping freshly filled glasses of wine and reminiscing on days of old.  They laughed about old teachers and old friends.  Sirius and Remus retold stories of their antics with James.  They spoke nothing of the events of the past fifteen years, until the evening was finished.  Then, they solemnly raised their glasses in a toast to their fallen friends.

            "To James and Lily," Sirius pronounced.  "They truly were the best of us."

            They sat silently for several long moments until Moira spoke.

            "I'm sorry, Sirius, that I ever doubted you," she said, looking at the table.

            "It's all right," he said laying his hand over hers.  "Were I in your position, I would have doubted me too."  His fingers played absently over the pink scar encircling her ring finger.  The mark of the ring he had given her. 

            The movement caught Remus' attention, as every small movement between the two had throughout the evening.  He wasn't sure what either was thinking, but he could see that their bodies quickly picked up the old habits of their feelings toward each other.  They way they sat, the way they smiled, even the way they spoke to each other mirrored perfectly the past.

            Remus felt his heart sink in the realization.  


	7. Chapter 7

Second Year

            Remus Lupin made his way wearily back to Gryffindor Tower.  He had spent three days in his shack, alone, while the moon changed him into a furry fanged monster.  He was exhausted.  His clothes were a shamble.  He would have to write to his mum for new robes.  Again.

            "Abacus," he said to the portrait.

            "Mister Lupin, you look horrid!  Have you been in a fight?  What will your mother think?"  the fat lady exclaimed upon seeing him.

            "Abacus," he repeated.  "You're supposed to let me in, not chastise me."

            "Well, I never," she said indignantly.

            Remus sighed.

            "I'm sorry.  I'm just really tired and want to go to bed.  I didn't mean to be rude."

            She huffed and the portrait sprung open.

            "See that you learn some manners before you return," she told him as he climbed through the portal.

            "I said I was sorry!"  But the portrait slammed back into place without another word.  Grumbling, he climbed the winding staircase to the left and threw open the door to the Second Years room.

            "Hey, Remus," James said when he entered.  Sirius and Peter were standing with him, peering at something on the desk.  "Where've you been?"

            "Visiting my mum," he answered, throwing himself onto his bed and loosing the curtains to shut out the light.

            "Your mum."  It was Sirius' voice this time.  "How is she?"  The curtains of his bed were thrown open again.

            "Exhausted," Remus huffed.

            "She's exhausted?"

            "No, she's sick.  I'm exhausted.  Go away."  He pulled at the curtain again.

            "Oh, she's sick."  

The curtain was thrown open again.  Sirius was grinning at him.  "What's wrong with her?"

            "Her son's about to get expelled for pummeling you, that's what's wrong."  He reached up and pulled the curtain shut again.

            "Well her son is a bean pole of a git who couldn't pummel a pillow."

            "Leave him alone, Sirius," he heard James say softly.  "He just had a full moon."

            Remus froze in the dark cavern of his bed, scared that even a breath would betray him.  What did they know?  

The boys in the room made no sound, but kept their eyes trained on the black curtain of the bed.  Very slowly, a hand emerged and pushed the curtain back, revealing Remus' pale face.

"What did you say, James?"

James stood from his desk, confident that they had been right in their assessment.

"I said, you just had a full moon.  Am I right?"

Remus' eyes flicked to the faces of his three roommates, expecting to see fear in their eyes, but they simply stared expectantly back.

"Why do you say that?"  He knew it was a dumb question.  That they had said anything told him they already knew.

"Because we just had a full moon, Remus," James told him.  "Just like we did the last time you 'visited your mum.'  And the time before that.  And all year last year."

"Co- coincidence," he stammered.

"Once or twice is a coincidence," Sirius told him.  "This is a pattern.  And the fact that you always come home so exhausted."

"And your clothes torn up," Peter added.

"You're a werewolf, aren't you?"  James' eyes danced.  He didn't have to hear the answer to know he was right.  Remus reaction to the full moon question had been enough.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh come off it, Remus."  Sirius leaned back against the pole of the bed.  "We goof off a lot, but we're not imbeciles.  We've seen all the signs.  You're always sick just before and after a full moon, you disappear for the duration, you come back tired and disheveled."

"You're not going to tell anyone, are you?"  What was the point in any more denial?

"Tell anyone?" James burst out.  "Are you mad?"

"Remus, this is the biggest secret in this school.  Do you really think we're going to let anyone else in on it?"  Sirius' face turned more serious.  "Besides, people are afraid of werewolves.  If we told anyone, parents would want you expelled.  Then who'd we hang out with?"

Remus could believe what he was hearing.

"You mean, you guys aren't scared of me?"

"Scared?  Of you?  Remus, no offense, but you're not exactly intimidating."

"Not me.  Of-" 

"The wolf you?" James finished.  "Obviously, Dumbledore knows and has taken some precautions.  Otherwise, you wouldn't be here.  What should we fear?"

A newfound sense confidence crept into Remus.  At last, there was somebody who knew what he was wasn't afraid.  Three somebodies.  His friends.  He allowed himself to open up to them, explaining how he had been bitten as a child and his condition hidden for so many years.  How Dumbledore had planted the Whomping Willow and had the shack built for his use during his changes.

He was a changed boy, and even his mother had noticed it when he visited home over the holidays.  He had friends at last.

And yet.

Yet he still felt fear deep within that others would find out.  If Sirius, James, and Peter had figured out the truth, how long before others did as well?

How long before Moira found out?

While Remus spent more and more time with his friends, he still breakfasted with Moira, and she and Lily and Lana walked with the guys between their classes.  He found himself thinking about her more and more.

Was this normal?

It galled him when Sirius made fun of her glasses or her hair.  She wasn't exactly defenseless.  Sirius had nearly choked on his orange juice when she called him a Dracula reject after the way his hair was slicked back from his shower.  And Remus had seen him rub his arm and mouth "ow" more than once after she punched him there.

Remus just wished they would get along a little better.    


	8. Chapter 8

Professor O'Shaughnessy stood before the room calling out the names on her attendance scroll, her eyes sweeping over the room, seeming to instantly memorize the faces of each student as she called their name.

            Harry was watching Seamus and Dean try to bewitch a spider on their desk to dance, with little luck.  Finally, it managed to escape off the edge as his name was called.

            "Potter, Harry."

            "Here," he said, raising his hand.

            Her eyes landed on him, peering closely at him.  They did not move up to his scar, as most eyes did when people first met him.  They stayed locked squarely onto his own green eyes for what seemed like ages.  Finally, they swept back down to her list.  After ending the list with Ron Weasley, she laid the scroll onto her desk, then slowly began walking around the room as she spoke. 

            "For the last four years, you have been here at this school, learning potions and charms; the arts, the sciences, and the histories of wizardry.  This year, we will add to your education considerably.  As you are fifth years, I expect you to keep up on you work.

"I've been told that you studied the Unforgivable Curses last year with Professor Moody.  Any ideas what some of those might be?"

Several hands shot into the air.  Those lessons were still fresh in the minds of the students.

"Yes, Miss Brown?"

"The Imperius Curse, where you control another person."

"Good.  The Imperius Curse."  She raised her wand and the class gasped.  "Don't worry, I'm not going to show you."  A piece of chalk wrote the name on the board in capital letters.  "We all know it should be dreadful to lose our free will.  Imagine the things that could happen, what you could be made to do."  Her eyes lingered on Draco Malfoy.  "Others?  I understand you had an excellent lesson on this last year.  Surely you remember more than one.  Miss Parkinson?"

"I didn't raise my hand."  Several Slytherins snickered.

"And I will forgive you for that oversight.  What is another Unforgivable Curse?"

"Uh, Crucius?"

"Cruciatus," the professor corrected, and the word was written on the board as well.  "The Cruciatus Curse inflicts pain such as none of you will ever know.  Every inch of your body screaming out in pain, to the point of begging for the one thing that will stop it."

"To die," Harry said quietly.  He still remembered all too well his run-in with Voldemort, and even more so, the pain of that curse, his bones were on fire, his head splitting.

"Good Mr. Potter," O'Shaughnessy said, regarding him quietly.  "The Cruciatus can make even the most powerful wizards beg for death.  Absolute torture."  She was quiet for a few seconds, her hand gently squeezing Neville's shoulder, who had been sliding under his desk.  Harry knew that Neville now lived with his grandmother because his parents had been tortured with the Cruciatus Curse by Death Eaters, followers of Voldemort, and were now patients at St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, completely insane and unable to even recognize their son.

"And the last?" she asked.  "Mr. Finnegan?"  Another student who hadn't raised his hand.

"Um, the Avada one?"

The class giggled.

"The Avada one?" O'Shaughnessy repeated.  "Please try that again."

"Avada, uh- Kedavra.  The killing curse."

"Better," she said, then leaned closer to him.  "I have no tolerance for people who do not even try.  See that it doesn't happen again."

Seamus nodded slowly.

"The Avada Kedavra," she continued as if nothing had been said to Seamus.  "The most unforgivable and the most dangerous of the curses.  It cannot be reversed.  Once someone has been killed, they cannot be brought back.

"I had these curses brought up because they are the extremes of the Dark Arts, and I'm sure knowing about them, and feeling you know how to ward them off is enough to make you feel comfortable about protecting yourselves.  I assure you, nothing can be further from the truth.  Any decent witch or wizard can take an ordinary spell and turn it into a curse.  What does this tell you about the Dark Arts?"

            The room was still.  No student seemed willing to answer her question.  Impatiently, O'Shaughnessy blew out her breath.

            "Come, come, there must be at least one decent mind in this room."

            The girl next to Harry raised her hand timidly.

            "Yes, Miss Granger?"

            "That the Dark Arts aren't just the spells, it's the person too?"

            "Are you asking me a question?"

            "No, I mean, it's the person.  The witch or wizard who casts the spell."

            "Good.  There's a bit of psychology that goes into understanding the Dark Arts.  It's understanding the person you're standing against and the spell itself."

            O'Shaughnessy turned to pick up some papers from her desk.

            "How would you know?"

            "Excuse me?" she answered.

            "I said, how would you know?"  It was Draco Malfoy sitting near the back of the room.  The Gryffindors gasped at his audacity.  Even a few Slytherins were surprised that Draco would speak to a teacher in such a way.  Harry watched the professor carefully as she set the papers back on her desk and leaned against it.

            "Are you questioning my knowledge, Mr. Malfoy?"

            Draco laughed.

            "Yes.  You don't look like you could defend yourself against a sneeze, let alone a curse.  First they give us a werewolf, then a nutball to teach this class.  Now it's a woman."

            O'Shaughnessy leaned against her desk, her arms crossed against her chest, watching Draco with what seemed to be amusement.

            "Are you quite finished?"

            "Quite,"  Draco said, trying not to laugh again.

            "I assure you, Mr. Malfoy, your greatest dangers are not in those people who seem the most dangerous, but in those who do not.  It is not the people who create the fires, but those who walk through it, you should fear."  She was walking slowly toward the back of the room, toward where Malfoy was seated.  Every student in the room craned their neck to watch her.  At last, she stopped, standing directly in front of him.  She stooped down, lowering her voice, but no one in the room was breathing.  Their ears strained to hear the words.  "If you really want to know, ask your father.  Ask him about his friends.  Ask him where he got the scar on the back of his shoulder."

            She addressed the class now, her voice seeming so loud, as the students were straining to hear her, that they jumped when she spoke.

"Before we meet again, you will read the first chapter in your textbook and write two full scrolls detailing the dangers of a Trion Curse with at least two very famous examples from history when it has been done successfully. And that's a full scroll.  That does not mean write one and three quarters of one and cut off the bottom part, because I will notice.  

"Yes, I am aware that this is the first day of classes, but I assure you, I am in not habit of letting students off easy just because they have been away.  I suggest you get into the same habits.  Now button up those complaints until you are out of this room.  Good day."

            The bell dismissed the class just as she finished speaking, as if it were waiting for her to finish before it rang. 

            "Can you believe that?" Ron asked as he, Harry, and Hermione headed for the Great hall for supper.  "She all but called Malfoy's dad a Death Eater."

            "She acts like she was an Auror," Harry added.

            "She was."

            "Now how would you know that, Hermione?"  Ron stared at her.  "She looks pretty normal for an Auror.  No magic eyes roaming about or missing appendages."

            "You just weren't looking close enough."  She dropped her books on the table.  "Her left hand and the side of her neck are covered in scars."

            "What?  How could you even see?"

            "Because my tongue wasn't on the floor from the moment I walked into the classroom.  She was obviously an Auror.  That's why she spoke to Malfoy the way she did, telling him to talk to his father.  I'll bet she was after him at one point.  And it's about time we had a decent female role model in this school.  One who is young and intelligent and doesn't spend her days breathing in fumes in a tower."

            "If you're talking about Professor O'Shaughnessy, then I agree."  George Weasley sat down, followed by his twin brother Fred.  "She's an excellent female role model.  All girls should want to be like her."

            "Quite right, George.  Tall, beautiful, intelligent, and willing and able to kick anyone's- ow!  Cripes, Hermione, we were just jokin'!"  He picked up the apple that had conked him in the head and landed in his lap.  "But thanks.  Now I have something to give to the professor!"

            "Miss Granger, I saw that.  Twenty points from Gryffindor."  Snape was standing next to the table, unnoticed by its occupants.  "Any decent parents would have taught you not to throw food."  He continued to the front table without even looking back.  Hermione's jaw was on the table.

            "What did he just say?"

            "Settle down, 'Mione," Harry told her, nudging her with his elbow.  "It's only the first day."

            "He's just sore that he lost out on the Dark Arts job again," Ron said a little too loudly.  Luckily, Snape was out of earshot.  His pace didn't even slow as he rounded behind the table and, to everyone's surprise, sat down next to Professor O'Shaughnessy, despite several seats left open.     

Harry and Ron walked made their way to the dungeon for Potions, neither in much of a hurry to see Snape, trying to hurry.  It was bad enough that he detested both of them, but they would not add to his ire by being tardy to his class.

            "Where's your Mudblood friend, Potter?"  Draco Malfoy was leaning against the wall just around the corner from Potions.

            "Shut up, Malfoy."

            "Make me, Weasley."  

            "Come on, Ron.  We're going to be late for class."

            "I asked you a question, Potter."  Malfoy grabbed at Harry's robes, but his hand was pushed away.

            "Potter!"

            "Harry!"

Harry turned and saw Malfoy's wand in his hand.  He spilled his books on the floor, grabbing at his own wand.   Malfoy fired and spell, but Harry ducked and the spell bounced off a wall, striking a nearby Hufflepuff, who fell to the ground, boils popping up over her arms.

            "BARRIO!" Harry cried out.  He hit Malfoy squarely, his ears elongating, and long tail sprouting from his backside.

            "Malfoy!  Potter!  Desist immediately!"  Professor O'Shaughnessy was between them, her hand out.  "Wands, now!"

            "It wasn't Harry's fault!" Ron yelled.

            "But, Professor-" Harry stammered.

            "I will not!" Malfoy cried indignantly.

            "Mr. Weasley, go to class."  Her eyes followed Ron as he walked dejectedly toward the Potions room.  Then she turned back to Harry and Draco.  "You were both casting spells in the hallway, injuring another student.  Fifty points from Gryffindor and Slytherin.  You will turn your wands in to me now and will not receive them back until you have both served a detention for me this evening.  Now, wands."

            Harry laid his wand in her hand.  Malfoy, however, refused.  

            "I have a Potions class.  I need my wand."

            "For which you are both now late," Snape announced from behind Malfoy.  "And you both will receive no credit for the lab portion, as you will not have your wands.  Mr. Malfoy, I believe a teacher just requested that you hand your wand over.  Please do so."

            Malfoy scowled as he laid his wand in Professor O'Shaughnessy's hand.

            "My father will hear about this."

            "Then, please send him an owl.  I would love to sit down and have a chat with him," was her reply, unmoved.

            "Malfoy, report to the hospital wing," Snape said calmly.  "Potter, get to class.  I will have no more interruptions."

            Harry and Draco glared at each other as they passed, heading in opposite directions.  Harry paused at the door and looked over his shoulder to see Snape speaking low with the professor, before following him into the classroom. 

            "She took your _wand_?"  Ron lowered his voice so as not to attract the attention of their Potions teacher.  "Can she _do_ that?"

            "Well, she did.  I have to serve a detention tonight with Malfoy to get it back."

            "Blimey.  Malfoy didn't get out of it?  But Snape hurried out of the room as I was coming in."

            Harry measured hog's tooth powder into the cauldron.  

            "Snape was on O'Shaughnessy's side from the start.  He made Malfoy give up his wand too."

            "Wow."

            "Yeah.  They act like they're friends.  I wonder if she was a Slytherin."

            "What?  With Snape?  I think she bathes too often to be in Slytherin."

            "Well, it would explain a lot.  Why she's friends with him and why he treats her almost nice."

            "You don't think they're dating, do you?" Hermione whispered from the next cauldron.

            "Augh, I just got an imagine in my head." Ron said, a little too loudly.

            "POTTER!  WEASLEY!"

            Their conversation halted for the rest of the class, until they escaped into the hallway.

            "Ech!  Hermione, that alone is enough to give me nightmares!"  Ron shivered visibly.  "I don't even want to think about Snape falling for anyone, even if it is Professor O'Shaughnessy."

            Snape swept past them in the hallway, his robes billowing out behind him as he went.

            "He could be together right now to profess his love!"

            "Oh, that's disgusting!"

            "It's not disgusting!  It's sweet!"

Ron and Hermione argued all the way to the Common Room and didn't even notice when Lee Jordan entered, bearing a note for Harry.

            "It's from O'Shaughnessy," he said as he passed it to him.

Report to my classroom promptly after supper for your detention.

-Professor O'Shaughnessy

            This lightened his mood a little.  Her classroom.  That meant he would not be sent into the forest again for detention.

            Right after the meal, Harry hurried to the Defense classroom.  The professor was sitting at her desk, reading a book.  She didn't even look up when he entered.

            "Profess-"  He was stopped by her upraised hand.   He waited patiently as she turned the page of her book and read a few more lines before she looked up.

            "Mister Potter.  Thank you for being prompt.  Mister Malfoy should be here momentarily."

            "Professor, I just wanted to apologize."

            "For what?"

            "For what?"  He was confused.  This was a punishment, wasn't it?

            "Yes, Mister Potter, for what?  For standing up to a bully?  For dueling in the hallway, on the second day of school, no less?  Or perhaps for injuring innocent bystanders?  Or are you apologizing for getting caught?  You may choose, and I will tell you if you were apologizing for the right reason."

            "I don't understand."

            "It's simple.  Do not apologize to me if you don't know what you are apologizing for.  I do not like empty words.  Choose them carefully."

            "I apologize for losing my temper," he said after some thought.

            "Why?"

            "Because I got into a fight because of it."

            "And?"

            "And broke a school rule, causing classmates to be injured."

            "Well put.  You will make your father proud someday."

            "Did you know my-"

            "Mister Malfoy, you are late."

            Harry turned to find Malfoy standing in the doorway.  He strode toward the front of the room, hitting Harry with his shoulder as he passed.

            Professor O'Shaughnessy waved her wand and two blackboards appeared on either side of the room.  She handed each boy a piece of chalk.

            "For your punishments, you will write the sentence 'I will not be an idiot and fight in the hallways as I may possible injure fellow student or myself,' until the board is covered.  No letter may be larger than 5 centimeters in height, and each sentence will be written line by line."

            "Is that all?" Malfoy asked.

            "You may add, 'I will hold my tongue when a teacher is speaking,' Mister Malfoy.  And I believe you will find the task much more strenuous than it sounds."

            Professor O'Shaughnessy was right.  The board began erasing itself when they were half finished, causing them to start over again once they reached the bottom.

            "This isn't fair!" Malfoy declared, and his board began erasing even faster.

            "I wouldn't continue talking back if I were you," O'Shaughnessy warned.

            Harry's hand began cramping from holding the chalk.  As he shook out his fingers hoping to gain feeling, he began to feel very sorry for what he had done.

            'Whenever Malfoy's involved, I seem to lose my head and get myself into trouble.  This has really got to stop.'  Harry glanced longingly at the clock.  It was already after eleven.  He stretched his fingers again and resumed writing.  His chalk continued forming the sentences on the board.

            'You really are an idiot sometimes,' he told himself as he copied the sentence for what seemed like the thousandth time.  'Someone really could have gotten hurt.  It's not exactly safe to go throwing magic around when you're mad.  God knows there are enough accidents here.'  He sighed as he reached the bottom of the board _again_, but was amazed to find the words at the top of the board had remained.  The board was filled with the sentences.

            "Mr. Potter," Professor O'Shaughnessy said. "Come get your wand."

            Harry was approaching her desk to get his wand when Snape entered the room.

            "Professor O'Shaughnessy?" he asked.  "You're still here?"  He glanced at the boards filled with words.  "They're writing sentences?  You'll be here all night."  He was standing right behind Harry now.

            "Mr. Potter is finished, earlier than I thought, actually.  But I think it may be a while with Mr. Malfoy."  

            Snape's eyes flashed to Malfoy's board where the words he had just written were disappearing, much to his consternation.

            "Save you sanity," he sneered.  "Send him to bed and bring him back tomorrow."

            "Mr. Malfoy, the Head of your house asks that you be sent to bed now."

            Malfoy grinned.

            "But you will return tomorrow and finish up," Snape added.

            The grin faded.

            "Come, I'll walk you back to the House."  Malfoy followed Professor Snape out the door, his head hung.

            "Come along, Harry.  Let's get you to bed as well."

            Professor O'Shaughnessy glided down the hallway, her head held high as Harry followed directly behind.  There were so many questions he wanted to ask her.

            "Professor," he called quietly.  "You know who I am, right?"

            She stopped and turned slowly toward him, one eyebrow raised high.

            "You are Harry Potter, a fifth year student at Hogwarts who got caught casting magic in the hallway, in a duel no less."  She softened a little.  "You are the boy who survived while both of his parents were murdered, to put it bluntly.  You weren't hoping I'd go easy on you, just because you're famous, did you?"

            "No, I just- you know both of my parents are dead, but you said my father would be proud."

            "You're asking if I knew them."

            "I guess I am."

            "When I was a student here," she said, laying her hand on his shoulder, "I was very good friends with several who are no longer with us, including your mother, Lily.  And through her, I knew your father.  I knew them both very well."

            "So you knew Professor Lupin and Sir-"

            "Harry, yes, I knew all of them.  However, it is late, and I really must get to bed.  Now come along, and ask me no more questions."

            Harry followed her silently to the portrait of the Fat Lady, wished her goodnight, then continued into the tower.


	9. Chapter 9

Fourth Year

            Platform 9¾ was brimming with activity.  Upperclassmen greeted old friends, talking about summer trips and trying to pull away from tearful mothers who tried to open trunks and check the underwear status inside and fathers who wagged their fingers, threatening harsh punishments for getting into trouble.  Seventh years walked about with their chests puffed out, proud to be the oldest students and those on their way out.  First years either chatted excitedly with parents, or stared at the Hogwarts Express with looks of utter terror.  Owls squawked and screamed from their cages as they were loaded on the train, and a small girl with blonde braids was chasing a black cat down the platform, begging it to forgive her for the pink ribbon on its tail.

            The whistle cut through the cacophony of the parting families, and soon the train was filled with students hanging out half open windows, waving to parents and promising to write and keep grades up.  

Remus hugged his own mom, ducking a kiss on the cheek.  James had just motioned that he was saving a **car**, but still, Remus didn't want to risk losing his seat.

"Now Remy," his mother said softly, grabbing hold of his sleeve as he tried to dash.  "You be careful.  Make sure you let Dumbledore or Madame Pomfrey know if anything happens."

"I will, Mum."  He pecked her on the cheek.  "I'm always careful."

"Stay out of trouble," she said softly.  "I fear you're going to school with two strikes against you just for being who you are.  Don't give anyone a reason-"

"Mum, you give me this speech every year.  I'm careful, I promise."  He smiled broadly.  Over the summer, he had shot up, no longer a boy but a young man.  His face had thinned out, appearing longer, though his amber eyes still flashed boyishly.  "You worry too much."

"Only because I care!"  she called out as he dashed off.  She saw him turn and wave just before being swallowed up by the mass moving onto the train.

Remus found James, Sirius and Peter quickly enough.  He had been stopped more than once by Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs to see how his summer had been.  As he made his way through the aisles, he looked out for Moira.  He spotted Lily and waved, but didn't see her Irish twin, as Moira had come to be called.

When he found the car, Sirius was teaching Peter a new curse he had learned over the summer, and James was flipping through one of his books, complaining loudly that they had to wait another year before they got to study the "good stuff" in their Defense Against the Dark Arts class.  Remus dropped into his seat next to Peter, but craned his neck to see down the aisle.

"Have you guys seen Moira?" he asked.

"She was sitting next to Lily when I got on," James answered, pushing his glasses back up onto his nose.

"How would you know?" Sirius asked, elbowing him in the ribs.  "You were busy making googly eyes at Evans.  'Hi Lily!  How was your summer?  Your hair looks great.  Can I touch it?'  Pathetic!"

Peter snorted.

"Jealous much, Black?" James asked calmly, without looking up from his book.

"That you look like a cow licked your head this morning and I don't?"

James slid his wand from his sleeve and pointed it at Sirius, whispering "Dishevum" so low, nobody heard amid the laughter, nor did they notice as he slid the wand back into his sleeve.

Remus and Peter noticed the effect at the same instant.  Remus laughed even harder, but when Peter tried to tell Sirius, James kicked him hard in the shin.

"Ow!" Peter cried out.  But nobody was paying attention to him.  The door had just slid open, and Remus and Sirius were trying to retrieve their jaws from the floor.

"Remus Lupin, I can't believe you walked right by me without saying hello!"

"Hi Moira," James said, closing his book.

"Moira?"

"It's only been a few months, Remus.  Don't tell me you forgot my name already."

Forgot her name?  He must have forgotten what she looked like.  The young woman before him bore no resemblance to the Moira O'Shaughnessy he had said goodbye to a few months ago, nor the one he had written to over the summer.  This Moira was taller, thinner.  Her now straight red hair shone in the artificial lights of the train, hanging to her shoulders.  Her glasses were gone, revealing the creamy skin and bright green eyes, both of which had been hidden away by the frames.

"I just didn't recognize you," he answered, recovering from his shock.  "You look great."

"Why, thank you," she answered with a warm smile.

"What did you do to your hair?" Sirius blurted out.

She frowned at him, her eyes sliding from his face up to his hair.  James' dishevum spell had caused it to stand on end without Sirius noticing.  The other boys in the car snickered.

"I brushed it," she answered flatly.  "You might try the some sometime."

"Yeah, well, you-  look like a- girl," he answered, attempting and failing miserably at a come back.

"Sirius, you got smarter over the summer," she observed.  "How dangerous for the rest of us."  She waved at the rest of the boys and headed back to her seat.  When she was safely out of earshot, Remus, James, and Peter burst out with laughter.

"Now who's pathetic?" James asked. 

"Yeah?  Well it's not like her first crack was very good." Sirius said.  "What is that?  'You might try some time.'  Like I don't brush my hair."  

Remus had to cover his mouth to keep from erupting again.  Peter had already begun to hiccup next to him, unable to control his laughter.  James flashed Sirius a wry smile and pointed to the window.  

"Check out your reflection, Casanova."

Sirius turned his head and saw his hair.

"What?" he cried, trying to press it back down.  The hair stood back up as soon as he removed his hand.  "What the hell?"

"Sirius, are you still letting cows lick your head in the morning?"  James asked seriously.

"Damn it, James!" he screamed, and punch him hard in the arm.

Peter slid off the seat and was now laughing uncontrollably between hiccups on the floor.  Remus buried his face in the sleeve of his robe, but James laughed openly.  Even Sirius joined them after his anger passed. 


	10. Chapter 10

            Over the course of a few weeks, Moira visited Sirius and Remus many times.  Each time, Remus looked forward to seeing her appear in his fireplace, when, for a few seconds at least, he could entertain the hope that she wanted to see just him.  Of course, that was never the case.  Always, she flashed him a bright smile that made his heart turn.  The dependable smile of friendship, a death stroke to the heart of any lover.

            And yet, he entertained the hope still, for that same smile crossed her lips to Sirius, as well.  Remus was not so blind as to see that it was forced, as if she were trying to resist him.  That she had to resist Sirius hurt, but that she was doing it gave him hope. 

            Not too much hope.  But hope.  He was more than aware that Sirius was at Hogwarts often, conferring with Dumbledore and checking up on Harry, but what else he was doing there, Remus did not know.  

He was sure he did not want to know.

So when Moira appeared in the living room one evening after Sirius had left for Hogwarts, Remus was curious.

"Moira!" he had exclaimed as she extricated herself from the fireplace, dusting soot from her shoulders as the flames behind her returned to their natural color. 

"Hi."  That smile again.  "I came to see if I could borrow those books you used for your third years.  You had said they were useful, so I-"

"Yes, of course.  They're just in the library."  He rose from the couch.  "It may take me a moment to find them, but if you would like some tea-"

"No, thank you."  The words came quickly.  He stared at her for a moment.  Something was wrong.  He knew this look from her, this tone of voice.  She wasn't here for the books alone.  He went to the library and found the books quickly.  They were sitting on his desk with his old lesson plans.  He had stacked them together, planning to give them to Moira to use.  When he returned to the living room, she was sitting on the couch, but rose when she heard him.

"Here they are," he said, handing them to her.

"Thank you.  I was just a bit lost with what exactly to do with them."  She stared down at the books silently.  Remus found himself wondering what it was she had really wanted.

"What is it, Moira?"  His voice was soft, concerned.  More so than he had wished to convey.

"Remus, I'm not sure what to do."  She sat down again, setting the books beside her on the couch.

"My lesson plans are inside the top book."

"No.  Not about the lessons."

"What then?"  He sat beside her, careful to keep a considerate distance.

"Sirius."

Oh.  Sirius.  Well, what did he think it would be? 

"Sirius?" he asked, pushing his own thoughts to the back of his mind.

"I'm not sure what to do.  He wants to try again.  With us.  I just don't know.  I mean, we were very young and very different then.  Yet, part of me wants to try.  The problem is, I don't know if it's out of love or habit." 

"Habit?"

"You know, like wanting to hold someone's hand whenever you're around them, because you always hold their hand.  Or calling someone 'honey' or 'love' because you're used to it."  Her eyes conveyed an emotion he had once seen rarely in her, but noticed more and more since her return to England: fear.

"What are you afraid of?" he asked, voicing his own thoughts.

Her green eyes, so vibrant and bright, became sad.  Her mouth turned down slightly.  Moira wiped at her eyes, and Remus realized tears had begun to brim on her bottom lids.  He fought the resistance to take her face in his hands and kiss her on those down-turned lips.

"I'm cold inside.  I haven't felt anything since I left."

Was this the same woman who had visited so often lately, vibrant and alive with wit and humor? 

"I don't understand."

"I'm scared, Remus.  Scared to go through all that again.  It's like- like I want to feel the fire, feel the warmth, but I'm too scared to get near."

"You're scared you'll be burned."

"My scars haven't exactly healed."

He took her hand, holding her fingers gently between his own.

"Yes they have.  They can't hurt you anymore.  They can only remind you."

"It's the reminding that hurts."

Remus stood and pulled Moira off the couch.  Still holding her hand, he pulled her near the fire and held her hand toward the heat.

"All you've remembered up to this point is the burn.  Maybe it's time you remind yourself what the heat feels like."

They stood close, their connected hands feeling the heat of the fire, holding each other's eyes.  Remus wanted with all his heart to lean forward and press his lips against hers, as he had yearned to do since they were children.  He leaned slowly toward her upturned face. 

"Remus?  Moira?"

Remus turned as Moira dropped his hand.  Sirius was standing just inside the door, thoroughly soaked by the rain outside.

"Sirius, you're- dripping," Moira observed.

"It's a bit wet outside.  I didn't know you were coming over."

"I hadn't planned on it.  Remus was just giving me some information to use with my third years."

"Was he?"  Remus felt his eyes boring into him.

"Yes," he answered.  "There's no point in starting from scratch when I have everything she needs."

Sirius' stare hardened.

Moira looked from one to the other.

"I should go," she said, gathering her things.  "Thank you, Remus, for your help."

"My pleasure.  Tell Harry hello for me."

Moira pinched some Floo Powder from above the fireplace and sprinkled it into the fire.

"Moira," Sirius said, "don't forget your books."  He pointed to the small pile of books on the couch.

"Oh, thank you."  She smiled and stepped into the fire clutching the books.  "Hogwarts."  When she disappeared into the flames, Sirius turned on Remus.

"What's going on, Remus?"

"I was just helping her with a problem."

"By holding her hand in front of the fire?"

"We were talking about you."

"That's not how it appeared."

"And you once appeared to be a murderer.  Appearances can be deceiving," he answered coldly.  

"Damn it, Remus!" Sirius yelled.  He froze for a moment, then shrank back.  "You've fallen for her, haven't you?"

Remus didn't answer.

"Tell me," Sirius continued, shaking his head.  "Tell me you didn't fall in love with her.  Not Moira."     

Remus said nothing.

"Remus!"

"I have been in love with her since before you knew her name," he answered quietly.  "Before you ever gave her a second glance, I had everything about her memorized.  And before you ever spoke to her, I went to bed every night with her voice in my head."

Sirius stared, shocked.

"Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"And why should I have?  Would it have changed anything?"  He stared down into the fire.  "You were one of the few friends I had back then.  I wasn't going to give that up for a girl.  Certainly not one that only saw me as a friend.  And certainly not when the only thing I had to offer was a chance to get mauled by a werewolf once a month."

"What's changed?  Her?"

"That's the problem," he said sadly.  "Nothing has changed.  I'm still her good friend.  When you came in, we were taking about you.  She wanted the courage to try again."

"That's not what I saw."

"No, that's not what you saw in me.  It's what I saw in her."  Remus brushed past Sirius and walked out the front door into the rain.  Sirius didn't follow.  He just stood in the living room, unsure whether he should be angry with Remus for his confession or at himself for never realizing the truth.

Remus stood just on the steps of the porch, grateful that the weather felt as desperate as he did.  Thank the gods for the rain.  It hid the tears in his eyes.

A sliver of light shone on the yard.  Sirius had opened the front door and was now standing on the porch while Remus allowed himself to be drenched by the heavy shower.

"What the hell am I supposed to do, Remus?"

"About what?"  He practically had to yell over the downpour.

"Don't 'About what?' me, Remus.  About Moira.  What is it that you want to happen?  You want me to back off?  Huh?  Do you want to take her out on a couple of dates and see if she bites?"

Sirius' words were harsh, digging deep into his heart.  Christ, what did he want to happen?  What did he expect?  Some fairy tale ending?  Happily ever after?  For who?  There's no such thing as happily ever after.  Someone always gets screwed in the end.

"She loves you, Sirius."  The words hurt him, even as they fell from his tongue.  "She doesn't realize it yet, but she still loves you."

"How do you know?"

"Because of the look I have always hoped to see on her face for myself.  She brightens and her eyes twinkle, just like they did before we all went to hell.  Gods, it's in her eyes."

"Remus-" 

"What?"  He stepped on the bottom step, his arms hanging at his sides, palms up, dejection hanging heavily on his body.  "Do you really think I would wish you both to be unhappy for the rest of your lives because of me?"  He laughed, forcing the sound out of himself like a cough.  "Did you think I was capable of that?  That I could put my own feelings above my friends?  Above the future of the two people in this world I love best?"  

"I didn't-"

"Sirius, don't tell Moira about this."

"Of course not."

"Thank you.  Now, go inside, Sirius.  I just want some time alone."  He stepped down, back into the rain.

"Then spend it in the library, Remus.  It's pouring out here."

"I rather like it," he answered, then, too softly to be heard, added, "It knows what I feel."    


	11. Chapter 11

Fifth Year

            Remus' fifth year at Hogwarts could not have begun any better.  He and Moira still had several classes together, and though they had been placed in separate study groups for their Advanced DADA class, they still spent several hours a week studying together, alone.  Sirius and Moira were finally beginning to get along, sometimes making it for whole stretches without an argument.  James and Sirius had figured out and mastered the Animagus Spell, and they and Peter could transfigure themselves into animals to keep him company during the full moon.  But possibly the best thing to happen during this year was the announcement of the dance.  In just two week's time, on the last evening before students went home for the holidays, Dumbledore had planned a holiday dance for the students of Hogwarts School.  It wasn't going to be formal, just a chance for the students to relax and have a good time.  An escape from the mounting dangers outside the school walls as Voldemort became more and more powerful.

            A dance.

            Remus knew exactly who he would ask, if only he could catch her alone.

            He caught Moira leaving the Great Hall after dinner.  She was alone, heading toward the library, a perfect chance to ask her to the dance.

            "Moira!" he called out, jogging up to her as she turned and flashed him a smile.

            "Remus, hey."

            "Hey.  Uh, you got a second?"

            Moira looked back toward her destination.

            "Actually, I'm running kind of late for our Defense study group.  But I do need to talk to you too.  In private.  Could you meet me outside the library in, say, an hour and a half?"

            "Yeah.  Sure."  He smiled broadly.  "Of course."  Could it be that she would ask him the very same question he had for her?  

            He considered simply waiting outside, just in case they finished early, but then he figured Moira might think he was weird if she saw him.  Remus returned to the Tower where James and Peter were playing chess and Sirius was doing homework from his Arithmancy book.

            "Be gone, evil Arithmancy," Sirius cried, slamming the book closed and sliding it across the table.  "I hereby banish you into oblivion."

            James glanced over.

            "It's still there, Sirius."

            "I know," Sirius sighed heavily.  "I need that book.  Dad said that if I banish another one, he won't replace it."

            "Hmm, imagine that."

            "Hey, Remus.  What's up?"

            "Not much," he answered, sitting across the table from Sirius and pushing the book back to him.

            "Have you talked to Moira yet?  She was looking for you earlier."

            "Yeah, but she was on her way to her study group.  Do you know what she wants?"

            "Something about the dance, I think.  I saw her and Lana giggling together just before she asked for you."

            The dance.  Remus' heart leapt.  She _was_ going to ask him.  He hardly listened as they made plans for the following night.  As much fun as exploring the school grounds every full moon was, Remus was too excited about the prospect of talking to Moira later that night. 

            Remus left early, wanting to be sure he did not miss her.  He leaned against the wall, trying to appear calm and cool when she exited the library.  When the door opened, she was talking to Severus Snape, a Slytherin with whom Remus didn't really get along, about theories of counter-curse development.

            "There has to be a balance," she was saying.  "For every curse, there is a counter-curse.  Like ying and yang.  We just have to find it."

            "Generally, I would agree with you, Moira.  But it's just not true in this case.  There is no counter-curse for Avada Kedavra.  It debunks your theory."

            "It doesn't debunk it.  It's just an exception.  Death itself, when it's total, is irreversible.  It's the effect, not the curse that is irreversible."

            "They're the same thing."

            "Not if Hansem's theory is correct."

            "It's not."

            "It is.  Think about it.  It's possible that in that split second before the curse takes hold, before it takes a life, that a  counter-curse can be used to ward off total death.  It might destroy the mind but not the body, or vice versa.  Then, you just have to find a way to bring the two together again."

            "But once it's destroyed, the effect is irreversible.  You yourself made that statement."

            "Well, I haven't exactly worked out all the kinks, but-"

            "Lupin."  A look of contempt crossed Snape's face for just a moment.

            "Snape."  

            Snape looked over at Moira.

            "Excuse me, Moira.  I will see you in class tomorrow."

            Remus watched him as Snape continued down the hallway, leaving Moira and Remus together.

            "Boy, he's all personality, isn't he?" Remus kidded.

            "Oh, stop," Moira replied, pushing him playfully.  "Severus is really quite brilliant, and you would know that if you spent a little less time simply making fun of him."

            "So," Remus said, in an attempt to change the subject.  He certainly didn't want to talk about Snape now.  "What did you want to talk to me about?"

            "Hm?  Oh, yeah.  The dance.  Do you have a date yet?"

            "No.  Why?"  He couldn't resist the smile that spread across his lips.

            "Well, because if you weren't going with anyone yet, I thought-"

            He didn't even hear what she was saying.  She was asking him.  She was really asking him!

            "Yeah, I think it'll be fun," he answered.

            "Great!  I'll tell Lana.  She was so nervous you'd say no."

            "Lana?"

            "And you guys can hang out with James and Lily and Sirius and me."

            "Sirius?"  He stopped in the middle of the hallway, unable to believe what he was hearing.  "Wait, you're going with Sirius?  I thought you couldn't stand him!"  Panic was rising in him.  What was she saying?  

            "Oh, come on, Remus.  He's grown up since then.  And we've gotten along really well this year."

            "But it's Sirius!"  

            "So?  Gods, Remus, he's your best friend.  I thought you'd be happy we were finally getting along."

            Getting along?  _Getting along?_  Getting along is being relatively nice to each other.  It's not going to the dance together.  He was supposed to go to the dance with Moira, not Sirius!  What was happening?

            "You alright, Remus?  You look pale."

            "Huh?"  He didn't even realize she was still there.  "Yeah.  No.  Look, I'm going to go to the Hospital Wing.  Okay?"

            "Okay," she answered, watching him curiously as he turned sharply and headed in the opposite direction.  Remus' path took him outside into the biting wind.  He hadn't brought his cloak with him.  He hadn't planned on being outside.  He hadn't planned on a lot of things.

Remus turned up the collar of his shirt and wrapped his arms around himself, glad he was at least wearing a sweater over his thin dress shirt.  At first, he headed for the Whomping Willow, then turned toward the Quidditch Field.  If the guys came looking for him, they would automatically check the shack first.  He didn't want to be found right away.  

He crossed the field, the frosted grass crunching under his feet, all the while, wondering what had happened.  How could she go to the dance with Sirius?  How could Sirius ask her?  What kind of friend was he?  Remus became more and more angry as he paced in the bitter cold.  He had even forgotten that he had no cloak.  He had forgotten where he was until he heard a voice from near the goal posts.

"You were going to ask her to the dance, weren't you?"

Remus spun around and saw James' head floating in the darkness.  He was wearing his invisibility cloak.

"What are you doing here, James?"

"Moira said you were sick and went to the Hospital Wing.  I came to check up on you."

"This isn't the Hospital Wing."

James glanced around. 

"Yeah, I noticed that.  But this is where I usually come when I have to think things out.  I took a chance that you didn't want to be found in your usual spot."  He stepped closer to his friend.  "But you never answered my question.  You wanted to ask Moira to the dance, didn't you?"

"What difference does it make?  She's going with Sirius."

"Yeah, I heard.  And after you told him you were going to ask Moira," James replied, shaking his head.

"I never told him."

"Really?  You did tell him that you like her though, right?"

"No."   

James tipped his head, feigning a perplexed look.

"So how was he supposed to know?  He never took Divination, Remus.  And he can't read your mind."

"Are you on his side on this?"

"Side?  Remus, there are no sides.  He didn't plot against you.  He didn't go behind your back.  You didn't tell any of us how you felt."

"You figured it out."

"About twenty minutes ago when Moira came back without you."

Remus sat down in the stiff grass.

"What am I going to do, James?"

"You're going to go to the dance.  With Lana.  You're going to continue being friends with both of them.  And you're going to keep reminding yourself that they are not doing this to hurt you, because they don't know what you're feeling."

Remus sat silently, thinking over what James had said.  It was sound advice.  This wasn't anyone's fault.  He had no real reason to be mad at them.  He could just be mad at the circumstance.

"Alright, I'll go to the dance."  He stood up, wiping at the wet spot that had soaked through the back of his jeans.  "Besides, they're probably just going as friends, right?  I mean, it's not like they're going out, or anything."  

"Come on. Let's get back inside."

Remus nodded, not realizing that James had not reassured him that they were just friends.  Somehow, James could not bring himself to hurt Remus anymore by sharing his own suspicions.

Unfortunately, Remus saw firsthand what James suspected when, during the dance, he saw Sirius kiss Moira.  Remus was paralyzed by the sight of it.  James laid his hand on his friends shoulder.

"You okay, Moony?"

"Okay?"  He glanced over at James' concerned face.  "Yeah.  I'm okay," he lied.

"You're sure?"

Remus forced a smile.

"Yeah.  It's not like I didn't know this was coming."  He started to walk back to the table where Lana and Lily were waiting for them to bring punch.  "Hey James?"

"Yeah?"

"Promise me they'll never know."

"Not from me, they won't."


	12. Chapter 12

            Moira slipped into the Potions room where Snape was waiting for her.  He was supposed to show her how to prepare the Wolfsbane Potion for Remus in case his unofficial duties made his preparation of the potion impossible.  He showed her where each of the ingredients were kept, then went over the potion with her before they began creating a batch for Remus to take that evening.  No detail was left out as he explained exactly how to cut and add each ingredient, exactly what shade the potion should turn after each was added, and the scents that would be released.  The work nearly finished, they sat at a table and waited for it to boil.

            "How is Lupin these days?" Snape asked.

            Moira was taken aback by the question.

            "I thought you didn't like Remus."

            "I don't.  I was simply being polite."

            "He's doing well, I guess."  Moira smiled mischievously.  "Are you going to ask how Sirius is too?"

            "Is he suffering from a hex?"

            "No."

            "Then, no."

            Moira laughed softly.

            "Severus, why do you hate them so much?  You weren't this bad in school."

            "Surely, you know."  

            "No, I don't."

            "Moira," Snape said, leaning forward and clasping his hands on the table.  "When did you find out what Lupin was?"

            "During our seventh year.  Why?"

            "Because I found out the year prior.  It was Potter and Black's idea of a joke for me to stumble into Lupin after he had transformed.  It nearly got me killed."

            "You're kidding!"  Moira was stunned.  She'd never heard about this.  "Why would they do that?"

            "Jealousy." 

Moira tried hard not to laugh.

            "No offense, Severus, but now I know you're kidding."

            "I assure you, I'm not.  Black thought- well- he thought I had a _thing_ for you."

            "A _thing_?  For me?"

            "Don't flatter yourself, O'Shaughnessy.  I assure you, I did not.  I respected your intelligence, something far too lacking in the Gryffindors, but I was not attracted to you."  He crossed his arms across his chest.  "Be that as it may, Black approached me about it.  He did not like what I had to say."

            "Which was?"

            "Which was that he should look to his own friends for that."

            "What was that supposed to mean?"

            Snape moved to stir the cauldron, then went into his office and retrieved a tea kettle and two tea cups.  He offered one to Moira, then caused the kettle to whistle with a wave of his wand.  Pouring the hot liquid into her cup, he asked a question, ignoring the one she had just posed.

            "Are the two of you seeing each other again?"

            "Why do you ask?"

            "I've seen the way he looks at you in Dumbledore's office.  I was simply curious for your own welfare."

            "I assure you, my welfare is fine."

            "You never answered my question."

            "You never answered mine.  Why should he have looked to his friends?"

            "Your interrogation skills have not left you.  Brava."  Snape sipped his tea.  "I told him one of his own friends was guilty of that which he accused me."

            "Was it a lie?"

            "Perhaps."  A thin smile spread across Snape's lips.  She couldn't tell whether or not he was telling the truth.  This all seemed a game to him.  "Now answer my question.  Are the two of you seeing each other again?"  

            "Yes and no."

            "How dubious."

            "Don't worry about me, Severus."

            "I don't.  I was just curious how Lupin is."

            "I've already answered that question."

            Snape's smile was interrupted by a sharp intake of breath as he gripped his left forearm.

            "What is it?"

            "I am being summoned.  I'm afraid our lesson will have to continue at a later time."  He rose quickly to leave but paused at the door.  "I will knock on your door when I return.  Come to Dumbledore's office."  He disappeared from the room.

            In the few hours that Snape was gone, their conversation replayed several times through her mind.  No conversation with Snape was idle chitchat.  Certainly not one regarding Remus and Sirius.  He asked how Remus was.  She asked why he hated Remus and Sirius.  He told about the prank, hinting that one of Sirius' friends- gods, then he asked about Remus again.  Was he implying-?

            The knock at her door told her Snape had returned.  Already dressed, she slipped a sweatshirt over her head and made her way to Dumbledore's office.

            "Something is happening," Snape was saying when she entered the room.  "Something serious."

            "What?" Moira asked.

            "I don't know.  I have not yet been told, but there is some dissension in the Death Eaters.  It seems some feel Voldemort has gone too far, which is saying much, considering who they are."

            "I agree."  Dumbledore leaned against his desk.  "Severus, you must find out what is going on.  If even Voldemort's own followers are unwilling-"

            "They are not unwilling.  They are scared.  Whatever it is, they are scared."

            "Alright, scared, though that word does not make me feel any better.  You must find out what is going on."


	13. Chapter 13

Seventh Year

            Moira sat quietly at the study table in the Library.  The rest of the school was at dinner, so the large room was silent.  Only the crackling fire made a sound.  In front of her, several large books were spread open, detailing the most advanced Dark Magic she could get her hands on at the school.  Her Advanced DADA final wasn't for another month, but she poured over the books, examining curses and counter-curses.  It had been an obsession for her since the summer, when _they_ visited her house. 

            _"O'Shaughnessy, where have you been getting your information?"_

_            "I don't know what you're talking about."_

_            "Of course, you do.  You've been tracking us for ages.  Do you expect us to believe it's just luck?"_

_            "I just follow the wreckage you leave behind," he snarled._

_            "CRUCIO!"_

_            Moira watched as her father writhed and screamed, bound to the chair._

_            "Papa!" she cried, trying to run to him.  She was grasped harshly and thrown to the ground next to her mother, also bound._

_"Christopher!"_

_"Mrs. O'Shaughnessy," the Death Eater purred.  "Perhaps you can convince your husband."_

_Moira expected the wand to be turned on her mother and cried out again, but turned her head in time to see the wand pointed at herself._

_"CRUCIO!"_

_The pain was exquisite.  Her very bones seemed to be on fire, burning through the muscle and skin which bound them.  Vaguely, she heard screams, but she couldn't tell if they were her own or those of her parents._

_Please!  Please just kill me!  The pain!_

_The pain stopped just as suddenly as it had begun. She was lying on the ground.  The voices came to her slowly._

_"-Mrs. O'Shaughnessy.  I know you don't want to see your little girl hurt.  Tell your husband to tell us what we want to know."_

_"No, Papa," Moira gasped._

_"Christopher!"_

_"Papa, no," she said louder, finally finding her voice._

_"Don't tell him, Chris!" _

_"Foolish woman!"  A green light filled the room.  Moira squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the pain to begin again.  Instead, she heard a scream.  She opened her eyes slowly, looking up at her mother.  Her face was twisted in horror, but lifeless.  She was dead._

_"Mum?"_

_"Tell me what I want to know, O'Shaughnessy, or your sweet little daughter is next."_

_"MUM?"_

_"I will not allow _Him_ to win," her father answered weakly._

_"Tut, tut.  That's not a very loving father, allowing such a beautiful daughter to die such a senseless death."  He turned on her, spinning his wand in his hand.  'You heard your father."_

_"NO!  Leave her out of this!  Moira!"_

_Moira spun on her knees, sweeping the Death Eater's legs out from under him.  He fell to the ground, losing his grip on his wand.  Moira grabbed it and scrambled to her feet.  Pointing it at him, she said:_

_"I'll kill you if you move."_

_He laughed, sending chills down Moira's spine._

_"You don't have the power for that, Little One."  He kicked his leg out, hitting her in the stomach.  She doubled up in pain, but before she could straighten herself, he too was on his feet.  He gripped her throat and shoved her against the wall._

_"You like magic, Little One?"  He pounded her against the wall again, banging her head.  "Let me show you how it's done."  He pulled the wand from her grasp and pointed it at her father.  "AVADA KEDAVRA!"_

_Again, the green light filled the room.  Moira squeezed her eyes shut again, not wanting to see what she knew was happening.  She heard his laughter again, could feel his breath on her face._

_"You should have killed me while you had the chance, Little One."  He slapped her hard.  "I think I'll let you think about that."  He hit her again, this time, with a closed fist.  She slumped to the floor, unconscious._

_"Voldemort's men are becoming increasingly aggressive."_  _Moira had heard the words before she was aware she was still alive._  _"They have begun attacking Aurors.  Almost hunting them."  Professor Dumbledore?  Professor, what are you doing here? The footsteps stopped nearby her.  A heavy sigh.  "So much destruction.  So many lives.  Moira was one of my brightest pupils.  Very promising."  _

_Am I dead?  Gods, I can't be.  No, I'm not dead!  Help me!_

_He touched her face._

_"Moira?"_

"Moira?"  Someone was shaking her gently.  "Moira, are you okay?"

"Huh?  Yeah, I must've fallen asleep."  She rubbed her bleary eyes and looked up into Remus Lupin's worried face.  "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah.  I was just dreaming."

"About what?"

"Nothing."

Remus turned the chair next to her so it was facing her and sat down.

"That seemed pretty intense for nothing."  He looked down at his hands.  "Was it about- what happened over the summer?"  His amber eyes slid back up to her face.

When she didn't answer, he stood up.  

"I'm sorry, Moira.  I didn't mean to-"

"Yes.  It was," she answered quietly.

"Did you- I mean- Have you- talked to Dumbledore about it?"

"Several times.  It doesn't seem to be helping."

"You know that if you ever need to talk-"

"I know Remus."  She reached out and squeezed his hand.  "Thank you."

"Well, I have to go.  I have to meet Sirius and James." 

He stood up hurriedly.  Moira sighed.  Remus had once been her best friend, now he was avoiding her, ever since the summer.  He wasn't the only one, either.

"Mind if I come with you?  To say hi, I mean.  I haven't seen Sirius all day."  She gathered her books from the table.  "I think I'm starting to go through withdrawal," she said forcing a smile as they left the library.

They were making their way to Gryffindor Tower when Remus stumbled and dropped his books.  Moira stooped to pick them up, but noticed he was leaning against the wall, his arms wrapped around himself.  He was pale and his jaw was clenched as if in pain.

"Remus, are you okay?"

"No," he gasped, sinking to the floor.

"What's wrong?" she asked, touching his face.  He was burning up.  "Remus?"

"Ughn!  Hospital Wing-" he stammered, gripping himself tighter as a fresh wave of pain rolled through him.

"Come on," she said, pulling him up and sliding her arm around his waist.  "Let's get you to Madame Pomfrey."  They made their way slowly, drawing curious stares from fellow students.  Finally, she spotted James exiting a classroom.

"James!  James!" she called.  He didn't seem to hear her.  Remus was sliding out of her grip.  "POTTER!" she screamed.  He turned, and upon seeing her and Remus, ran over and slipped under Remus' arm, claiming the weight from her.

"You don't look too good, Remus," he said as Remus was gripped by a fresh wave of pain.  "Moira, I'll take him to the Hospital Wing.  Go tell Sirius.  He should be in the Tower."  James steadied Remus as they made their way down the hallway.  Moira raced off toward the tower.

"Haberdash!" she called, and the portrait swung open without her having to break her stride.

Lily was sitting on the couch, a book open in her lap.

"Moira?  What's wrong?"

"Sirius!  Where's Sirius?"

"In his room, I think.  What's the matter?"

Without answering, Moira raced up the stairs on the boys' side until she came to the door marked "Seventh Years."  She knocked, then opened the door before anyone answered.

"Moira?"  Sirius looked up from his bed where he had been reading, stunned.  "You're not supposed to be in here."  He smiled coyly.  "I could have Peter leave, though."

"Hey!" Peter called from another bed.

"Peter, go find Remus," Sirius told him, rising from his own bed.

"No, Sirius, something's wrong.  Remus."  She was gasping for breath.  

He was in front of her in two strides.

"Are you okay?" he asked, gripping her shoulders.  Worry creased his face.

"I'm fine!  Remus is sick!  James took him to the Hospital Wing."  She saw Sirius and Peter, who had emerged from behind the curtains of his bed, exchange a look.

"But he's got ages-" Peter started, but was silenced by a look from Sirius.

"Moira, go downstairs.  I think Lily's there," Sirius said, kissing her forehead.  "We'll check up on Remus."

"I'll come with you!"

"No.  Just, stay here. Please?"

"Sirius, you know something.  What's going on?"

"Please, just trust me."  Sirius rushed from the room with Peter close behind.

Moira was sleeping on the couch when the three boys returned to the Common Room sans Remus.  She glanced at her watch as they clamored through the portal.  Nearly 2am.  She looked over the back of the couch to see them slinking up the stairs.

"Sirius?"  The three boys jumped at the sound of her voice.

"Moira?  What are you still doing up?" Sirius asked, walking to where she was now standing.  "Were you waiting for me?"  He smiled uncertainly.  Moira knew that smile.  He had been up to something.

"How's Remus?"

"He's good.  Just resting a bit."

"Oh?"

"Yeah.  It was just a, uh-"

"Stomach cramp," James called out from the stairway.

"Yeah.  A stomach cramp."

"Then where have you guys been?" Moira asked innocently.  "It's really late."

"You're saying that like you think we've been up to something.  Are you insinuating that _I_, Sirius Black, have been up to something?"

"Can you honestly tell me you haven't?"

A sheepish smile was his response.

"James?  Where's Remus?" she asked, without taking her eyes from her boyfriend.

"In the Hospital Wing," he answered simply.

"No, I went there before curfew.  He wasn't there.  What happened to him?  Sirius?"

Sirius didn't answer.  He looked everywhere in the room but at her.

"James?" she asked.

"He, uh-"

"Peter?"  She turned and looked the short blonde boy in the eyes.  "Peter, what happened to Remus?"

Peter looked to Sirius and James for help, stammering incoherently.

"Moira," James said finally, stepping forward.  "It's not for us to say anything.  It's not our place."

"It's a full moon," she said, watching James' face carefully.  A look of surprise crossed it and quickly vanished.

"I think so.  I haven't been outside to check."  From the look on his face, she could see that he was lying.

"Sirius," she said, turning back to her boyfriend.  "When I told you Remus was sick, you asked if I was okay.  Why?"

Sirius' eyes widened.  He looked to his friends for help, but they just stared back, just as stunned.

"This isn't the first time it's happened, is it?" Moira continued.  "James, you didn't even ask me what happened.  And Peter, you thought he had ages.  Ages until what?"  She turned back to Sirius.  "He's a werewolf, isn't he?" she asked quietly.

"Moira," Sirius answered quietly, "James is right.  It's not our place."

"The hell it's not.  I knew Remus before I knew you, Sirius Black.  Now tell me the truth.  Is Remus a werewolf?"

"Shh!" James approached her, motioning for her to keep her voice low.  "Yes, Moira, Remus is a werewolf."

When Remus returned to the Tower a few days later, James told him what had happened.  He wasn't surprised.  Why should he have been?  He had practically changed right in front of her.  However, he was a little nervous.  Five people had discovered the truth in the last seven years.  Now Moira knew.

He had borrowed James' Invisibility Cloak and waited outside the entry to the Tower for her to return from the library.  She jumped when she saw him standing in the shadows.

"Gods, Remus, you scared me."

Without saying a word, he placed his finger on his lips and motioned for her to place her books in the shadow.  Then, covering both of them with James' cloak, he led her through the school to a hidden passageway that allowed them outside.  Remus did not say a word until they had reached the Quidditch Field some distance from the school.

Finally, he removed the cloak, but continued to say nothing.  What was he going to say?

"Moira, you can never tell anyone."

"You brought me all the way out here to say that?"

"I'm serious.  No one."

"Remus, you're overreacting-."

"No, I'm not."  He gripped her shoulders.  "Moira, this is not a game.  This is my life!  Don't you understand?"  He stopped.  She had her hands on his chest, pushing him away.  He removed his hands, running them now through his hair.  "Don't you understand, Moira, that it's not a question of parents freaking out that their kids will get mauled?  It used to be, but it's not anymore.  This is serious.  People are terrified of werewolves because Voldemort has so many in his employ.  There are actually clubs of wizards who hunt them down and display the hides.  If anyone finds out that I-."

"Remus, you're overreacting about having to warn me.  I am well aware of your dangers, and I will never tell another.  You can trust me."

"I'm sorry.  I just had to make you aware-"

"I am aware, I promise you, Remus.  I am all too aware of how dangerous it is to stick out of the crowd in this war.  I swear, I will not allow the same to happen to you.  Hey."  She cupped his cheek, bringing his eyes to meet hers.  "I don't know what has changed between us, why you avoid me whenever you can.  Or why you seem to think you cannot trust me anymore.  We've been best friends since our first year.  I don't know what I would do if I lost that.  I hope I haven't already."

"You haven't."  

"Thank you."


	14. Chapter 14

Moira sat at her classroom desk reading papers her third years had just turned in when she heard a soft knock at her door.

            "Come in."

            The door opened and closed, and though she didn't see anyone enter, she knew who it had to be.  She smiled.

            "Hello Harry.  What can I do for you this evening?"

            A moment later, Harry Potter was standing before her, the Invisibility Cloak draped over his arm.

            "How did you know it was me?"

            "What other student would sneak out this late at night and politely knock on my door to speak to me?  I assume that is your father's cloak?"

            "Yes, ma'am."  He smiled back at her.

            "He caused a lot of trouble with that."  She smiled sadly at the memory of waiting for James or Sirius to come and sneak her back to Gryffindor tower for a midnight game of Exploding Snap, or to sneak her outside to meet Lily for a midnight walk.  "I do hope you're more careful with it than he was."

            "I am." He assured her with the same wry smile James had always given when he assured Lily he was not getting into trouble.

            "Now Harry, what can I do for you?"

            "I was wondering if you could tell me about my parents.  What were they like?"

            Moira looked carefully at the fifteen year old boy before her.  He stood straight and proud, her height, were she standing.  He was the spitting image of James at his age, but for the eyes.  The boy most definitely had Lily's intense green eyes.  She removed her silver rimmed glasses and sat them on the desk. 

            "What do you know about them?"  She had been expecting this conversation, but hadn't expected to be so moved by the plea.  

            "I know what they looked like.  Hagrid gave me a photo album my first year.  And I know my father played Quidditch and that my mum's is from a muggle family."

            "My, that's not much at all.  Did Remus and Sirius tell you nothing?"

            He shook his head.

            "They really didn't have much time what with Sirius being a convict and Professor Lupin a werewolf."

            Moira chuckled.

            "Yes, I suppose things have become a bit more complicated."  She leaned her chin onto her hand.  "Let me see.  I met your mother our very first year.  We were sorted into the same house- Gryffindor.  She was my best friend, practically sisters, right up until, well, until the end."

            Sirius walked quietly through the house, opening doors and looking in each room for Remus.  The two had hardly spoken since Remus had revealed the truth regarding his feelings for Moira.  The silence hadn't really been by choice.  What was there to say to each other?

            At last the found him in a room Sirius had never been in before.  It had been Remus' mother's room up until she had died.  The room hadn't been touched since her death, though Sirius wasn't sure how long it had been.  She had died while he was in Azkaban, and Remus spoke very little of it.  He had been very close to her, the woman who had so carefully protected her only remaining son. There were pictures of two young boys, identical down to the freckles on their noses.  Romulus, the brother who had not survived the werewolf attack so many years ago.  This was the only room where a picture of him could be found.

            Remus was sitting at a writing desk, his back to the book.  A candle burned next to his elbow, and as Sirius stepped closer, he saw that his old friend was reading from a small leather-bound book.

            "Remus?"

            "Yes?"  He did not turn around, or even look up.

            "What are you doing?"

            "Reading."  Sirius had to wait several seconds before Remus said more.  "It's my mother's journal."  He looked up.  "Don't look so shocked.  It's about me.  She kept it after I had been bitten."  His eyes wandered back to the book.  "She was meticulous.  Documented everything.  Every scar I bore afterwards.  Development.  Treatments that were attempted and discarded."  A page flipped.  "And mixed in with all her medical observations were the thoughts of a true mother.  'Tomorrow, my dear Remus begins school at Hogwarts.  He is as excited as ever, but I feel some resignation.  Up until I spoke with Albus Dumbledore, I thought my son would have no chance at a normal life.  Dumbledore assures me his secret will be safe and no other children will be in any danger.  Yet my resignation is not in worry for his condition, but for my little boy.  Will he, who has been alone for the past six years, be able to cope with the other students?  Will he make friends?  Will he be happy?'  That's a good question, Mother."

            "Remus, is this about-"

            "No, Sirius.  It has nothing to do with you or Moira."  He closed the book and replaced it in a drawer.  "Tomorrow is the tenth anniversary of my mother's death, and as it will be a full moon, I am mourning her tonight."

            "I'm sorry, Remus, that I wasn't here."

            "Don't be.  It was not by your choice."

            Sirius remained silent as Remus' amber eyes wandered to the pictures on the bureau of his brother and himself.  He said nothing for along time, then spoke to Sirius without looking at him.

            "Did Severus bring the Wolfsbane Potion?"

            "Yeah.  It's downstairs.  That's why I came to find you."

"Thank you Sirius.  Good night."  
 

Harry Sat listening to Professor O'Shaughnessy's stories until he could not hold his eyes open any longer, but when she noticed his drooping eyelids and suggested he go to bed, the boy moaned.  He had so many questions he still wanted to ask, but she was adamant.  It was already after one a.m., and she shouldn't have allowed him to stay up this long.  

"I'm like the aunt who spoils the children before sending them home, except I have to deal with you tomorrow.  Mind you don't fall asleep in class."

"I won't, " he answered, staggering toward the door.

"Oh, come on, Harry.  I'll walk you back.  I daresay, if you put that cloak over your head, you'll walk straight into a wall."

"Professor O'Shaughnessy," Harry said as they neared the tower.  "Why did Voldemort come after my parents?"

"Harry, that's enough questions for tonight."

"I just asked because- he was after my dad and me, wasn't he?"

"Why would you think that?"

"I heard my mom the night Voldemort came to the house when the Dementors came to the school two years ago.  He was telling her to stand aside so he could kill me.  He only killed her because she refused."  Then, more softly, he added, "She wouldn't have died if-"

O'Shaughnessy stopped dead when she heard this and, gripping Harry's shoulders, turned him toward her.

"Harry, your mother was a very brave woman who loved you very very much.  She made a choice, the right choice, in sacrificing herself so you could live.  Do not betray her memory by ever believing she made the wrong choice.  Do you understand me?"

Harry nodded, wiping tears from his eyes with the sleeve of his sweater.

"Good.  Now go on.  Go to bed."

Harry approached the portrait of the fat lady.  He said the password and the portrait swung open, but he stopped midway through and turned to Moira.

"Professor O'Shaughnessy?  Do you remember how you said you and my mom were practically sisters?"

She nodded.

"I think you would have made a great aunt."  Then he entered the tower and the portrait swung back into place.  Moira remained where she was for a moment, moved by the boy's words.

"I would have loved to be so," she murmured and turned away, heading for her own chambers.  


	15. Chapter 15

In the Past

            As they settled into life after school, the small group of friends were looking toward their futures.  James had proposed to Lily two years after graduation, and with Sirius and Moira at their sides (Lily's sister, Petunia had refused to have anything to do with the wedding), they made their vows.  After another year, Harry was born and adored by Uncles Sirius and Remus and Aunt Moira.  

Moira had surprised everyone by taking a job with the Ministry as an Auror, hunting down the most dangerous of Voldemort's followers, the Death Eaters.  Remus worried silently for her, for only he had been present for her near collapse upon entering her parents' house again after they left school.  While the others worried for her physical safety, Remus was terrified for her mental stability.  He had seen her many times in her work, focused by a drive unmatched by those around her.

He too worked for the Ministry, sorting and compiling the information brought back by field agents and, surreptitiously, sharing what was learned with Professor Dumbledore, who was leading his own Order against the dark forces of Lord Voldemort.  Both James and Sirius worked closely with Dumbledore, protecting those who had been targeted by Voldemort, using the information gathered by Remus, Moira, and an unknown source within the Circle of the Death Eaters.

Christmas allowed on of the few times they all gathered without the pressures of the job weighing on them.  Remus arrived at the Potters' first, bearing gifts for everyone, and followed closely by Sirius, also carrying several gifts.  Lily relieved them of their packages while James directed them to the kitchen for wine, as he was holding young Harry.

"So, Sirius," Lily said when they were settled.  "Before Moira gets here, what's the big secret?  What'd you get her?"

"There's a secret?"  Remus blinked up at his friend.

"Evidently not," Sirius answered.  "I see James isn't very good at keeping them."

"In my own defense, she figured that out on her own.  I never told her there was one."

"Come on, Sirius.  What is it?"

Sirius reached into his pocket and produced her gift.

"What is it?" Remus asked, staring down at the tiny black box Sirius held in the palm of his hand.

            "Sirius," Lily gasped, "Is that what I think it is?" Her hands covered her mouth.

            He nodded, grinning madly.

            "Oh, Sirius!" she gasped, throwing her arms around him.  "I can't believe you're really going to do this!  I'm so excited.  May I see it?"

            He held out the box for Lily to open.  She took it from his hand and removed the lid.  "Oh, it's beautiful," she sighed.  "Not as beautiful as mine," she quickly added, smiling playfully at her husband.  James looked over his wife's shoulder, gently rubbing Harry's back, coaxing him to sleep.

            "It's nice."

            "It's better than nice, James.  It's perfect.  She'll love it!"  She turned again to Sirius.  "When are you giving it to her?"

            "Tonight, hopefully.  Not here, of course, but after the celebration.  You'll know when we come over tomorrow what she says."

            "What is it?" Remus asked again, trying to hide the panic in his voice.

            "An engagement ring," Sirius answered proudly.  "I'm asking Moira to marry me."

            "You're- what?"  His head spun, and he was thankful he was already sitting on the couch.

            "I'm asking Moira to marry me," Sirius repeated.  "Are you all right, Moony?  You look ill."

            "It- I-" he stammered.  "The moon.  I need some air."  

            "But you still have another week," Sirius protested as Remus staggered out the front door to the porch.

            James handed Harry to Lily and followed him.  He found Remus sitting on the steps, cradling his head in his hands.

            "Remus?"

            "What James?"

            "How are you?"

            "How do you think?"  He didn't look up.  "You knew about this?"

            "He mentioned it.  I didn't know it would be this soon.  I'd have warned you."  He sat next to his friend, staring out at the dark street.  "You should be happy for them," he said quietly.

            "I am.  For them both."

            "Then what are you doing out here?"

            "Breathing."

            "Remus, you can't be mad at him.  You know that."

            "James?" he asked, sitting up.  "How would you feel if Lily ended up with Sirius instead of you?"

            "You mean if two of the people I care most for in the world found happiness together?  I'd be happy for them."

            "That's easy for you to say," he huffed.  "You already have Lily."

            "True, but," he looked at Remus in a way that told him the 'but' would not be a happy one to hear.  "You never had Moira.  You never took the chance, Remus.  Sirius did.  You can't hate him for what he has never known."

            "Are you practicing that speech for Harry someday?"

            "After watching you for the last few years, I hope not."  He smiled boyishly, running his fingers through his already mussed hair.

            "Yeah," Remus replied with a weak smile.  "Me too."

            "I'm going back in before Lily puts the baby to bed.  Are you coming in?"

            "Yeah," he said, getting to his feet.  "I'm coming." 

            Once inside, Remus forced himself to look at the ring.  It was perfect.  A simple silver band with a single diamond.  It was just the type of ring he could imagine on Moira's finger.  The perfect ring for their perfect marriage.

            The rest of the evening was a blur for Remus.  Moira arrived full of smiles and Christmas cheer, but Remus could not bring himself to celebrate.  She was right there, just a few feet away, but in a few hours, she would be lost to him forever.  


	16. Chapter 16

Moira lay in her bed, unable to sleep.  After Severus' announcement that something big was happening among the Death eaters, and her evening with Harry, she had forgotten for a little while the conversation she had had with Severus just two days ago.  Now, her mind lingered on it.  Had he really hinted what she thought he had?  Had Remus really loved her so long ago?

Now her mind dwelt on her visit with Remus earlier in the week, when she had asked him for advice on Sirius.  She remembered how he had taken her hand and led her to the fire, how warm his fingers had been, entangled with her own.  He had stood so near to her she could smell the perfume of his skin as he gazed down at her with those amber eyes of his.  And she relived the surprise of Sirius' return.  No, not surprise.  Disappointment, for that was what she had felt.

What is he had not returned at that moment?  Would he have kissed her?  Would she have stopped him?

Gods, they had been best friends all those years!  He was probably just being nice to her.  She was just reading more into it than there really was.  And yet, the idea of Remus taking her in his arms and kissing her did not make her apprehensive as it had with Sirius.  Was she really falling for him?  Or was she just pulling away from Sirius, away from her past? 

Moira rolled over onto her side, pulling the blanket tightly around herself and closed her eyes.

In the sweet darkness of her bedroom, Moira imagined Remus down toward her, his eyes closed in that long moment before his lips would meet hers.  Sadly, her imagination could not create the warmth or pressure of his hand on hers, his lips on her lips.  She could see it, but not feel it.

Moira opened her eyes and stared into the darkness.  She wanted to feel it.  She wanted his arms to encircle her.  She wanted to hear his laughter, to feel his breath on her neck.  She wanted to hear his voice tell her that he loved her.

'Afterall,' she thought with a clarity she had long lost with Sirius, 'I love him.'   

Moira realized her face was probably flushing as she told Dumbledore where she was going.  He smiled at her in that knowing way he always used when he knew what no one else did, but did not ask any questions.  Instead, he merely waved his wand toward his fireplace, opening it for travel to Remus' house as he had done every time she had asked.  Felling that Dumbledore knew her purpose, she wished she could use the fireplaces without his assistance, but it was a security precaution, stopping unwanted travelers from simply appearing in the school unannounced.

"The full moon cycle begins tonight.  Did Severus already deliver the potion?"

"I asked.  He said he dropped it off this morning."

"Good.  If Remus is already changed-"

"I'll come right back.  He'll probably be sleeping anyway."

"Possibly," Dumbledore agreed with that same knowing smile.  "But you won't find out until you actually go."

Moira realized she hadn't actually moved since Dumebledore opened up the fireplace in his office, even though she knew exactly where the Floo Powder was.  Gods, her hands were trembling as she reached up and took a pinch to throw into the flames.

"Oh, and Moira," Dumbledore said as she stepped in.  "Good luck."

Moira stepped out of the fireplace in the familiar surroundings of Remus' living room.  She glanced around the room, feeling very nervous for what she was about to do, looking for him.

"Remus?" she called, walking toward the kitchen.

"What do you want?"  The voice that answered her was more stern than she had expected.  She turned back toward the living room and found Remus standing on the bottom step of the staircase, staring at her.  He did not smile or welcome her, but only gazed at her coldly.  His light brown hair was disheveled, his face ashen.  She would have guessed he was ill were it not for how still he stood.

"I came to talk-"

"Sirius isn't here," he snapped.  "You should go."

"I didn't come here to talk to Sirius.  I need to talk to you."

"And I need you to leave.  I'm in no mood to counsel you on your love life."  He strode across the room to the fireplace where he pinched some Floo Powder and tossed it into the fire.  "Hogwarts."  Remus stood transfixed, staring into the green flames.

"Remus, I don't want to talk about Sirius.  I need to talk to you.  About you.  And-"

Moira stopped speaking when she saw his body tense for a moment, as if in pain.  She reached out, touching his shoulder.

"Are you okay?"

"No, Moira.  I'm not.  Now please, go."

"All right," she said softly.  "I'll go.  I just wanted to tell you that I know.  I know what you felt all those years ago. How you felt about me, and that-."     

"Why?" he asked, cutting her off.  "So you can gloat?  Or so you can feel bad for poor old Remus who entertained the notion that mighty Moira O'Shaughnessy might one day love him.  Moira, do you have any idea what you do to me?"

"Remus, I know what you've been going through-"

"Know?  KNOW?  How can you possibly know?"  He spun around quickly, catching Moira by surprise.  His face was twisted, contorted in anger.  "You know everything, don't you?  Little Miss Perfect, who can raise her hand and answer every question, but you know nothing!  For the last fifteen years, you've pretended to live.  Gone through all the motions, but not really living!"

            "That's not fair!" she yelled back, instinctively backing away as he moved slowly toward her.

            "Fair?  Who said anything about fair?  This isn't a game, Moira.  This is life.  This is _my_ life.  There is no such thing as fair!"

            "What has gotten into you?"  Before the words had even left her mouth, she noticed the signs of the moon playing on him.  His body was stretching, broadening.  His jaw was thickened.  He was changing.  His temper had become violent.  "Remus, have you been taking Severus' potion?"

            "Of course I have.  Do you think me a fool?"

            Something was very wrong.  Either he hadn't taken the potion or it wasn't working.  This anger, this temper, it wasn't in her personality.  It was the werewolf.  Moira's eyes swept the room, landing on the fireplace with the supply of floo powder above and her robe hanging beside it, her wand jutting out of the pocket.  She moved for it, but Remus moved more quickly, blocking her path.  Moira ran into his chest and was gripped by her shoulders.

            "We're not done talking," he growled, pushing her backward.  She fell against the coffee table.  Her hand scrambled across the top, looking for anything to defend herself.  Her fingers closed around the handle of a paring knife on an empty plate.

            Holding the knife toward him, she pushed herself to her feet. 

"Remus, stay away from me.  You don't know what you're doing."

"What are you going to do with that, Moira?  You going to kill me?  That's always been your way, hasn't it?  When in doubt, kill something.  Well, it's going to take a much bigger knife than that to kill me."  He knocked the knife out of her hand, advancing on her slowly.  

"Do you really think no one else has ever tried?" he continued.  "Kill the werewolf!  Burn him!  Cut him apart!  You're just like the rest of them, Moira.  You treat me like I'm nothing more than an animal!"

"No-"  She stumbled over an unseen footstool blocking the path of her legs and fell backwards, landing painfully on her back.  She was stunned for a moment, giving Remus time to pounce on top of her, pinning her arms to the floor.  His knee crushed into her thighs, holding her down.

"What are you going to do now?" he whispered harshly into her ear.

"Get off me!"

"That's not very effective.  You hold no power over me."  He tightened his grip on her arms.  The sharp nails of his elongated fingers tore onto her wrists.  He sniffed her neck and hair, and smiled down at her.  "You're afraid, aren't you?  Scared of the big bad werewolf.  Fearless Moira feels terror."

"Stop it, Remus!"  She twisted sideways, loosing one of her legs from under his knee.  Pushing her foot on the ground, she attempted to turn, to topple him from on top of her.  He straddled her, pushing both of her legs together, holding them with his weight.  "Remus!  Remus, please!  Please stop this!"

"I don't want you to beg," he told her.  "I want you to scream."

"Please, please, Remus," she begged.  Tears were streaming down her face now.

"Pathetic!" he growled.  "I told you to scream!"  He slapped her hard across the face, leaving deep gashes across her cheek from his claw.  She screamed and he hit her again, knocking her unconscious.  His hand was frozen in midair, ready to strike again, when the realization of what he was doing struck him.  He stared at his hand, the long fingers, the thickening knuckles covered in fur, then stared down at Moira, her blood mixing with the tears on her cheek.

"Oh gods," he gasped.  "Moira?  Moira, open your eyes."  He fell backwards from her body, pushing himself away from her.  "What have I done?"  He gripped his chest, the pain of the transformation nearly complete.  The last salient thought of the man inside him was to get away before he killed her.

Moira could hear voices in the room as awareness returned to her.  She had been moved to the couch, or had she moved herself?  She was unsure. The side of her face was burning.  Her jaw was filled with searing pain.

"I do not see why you did not want me to go with him."  The voice was low, grave.  Snape?  Why was Snape there?

"If what we suspect is true, you would be of no help.  You would only be in danger yourself."  A cool cloth was being pressed against her face.  Was that Dumbledore?  "Besides Severus, I am not going to give you two a chance to kill each other."

Moira forced her eyes open.  Snape was leaning against the mantle of the fireplace, looking very uncomfortable and austere in Remus' home.  His black eyes fell on her, and though his face was unchanged, she sensed him smile.

"Your patient is awake, Albus."

Professor Dumbledore turned slowly on the edge of the couch and looked down at Moira's open eyes.

"Ah, Moira.  How nice to have you back among the coherent."  

"Remus-"

"Sirius is looking for him now."  Sadness had touched his face.  "Severus, freshen this up, please."  Snape took the cloth from Dumbledore's hand and disappeared into the kitchen.  Dumbledore turned back to her.  "Moira, what happened?"

"I don't know.  He started changing, but was angry, violent.  Like he hadn't taken the Wolfsbane Potion.  He kept screaming the cruelest things at me."

"He took the potion," Severus announced, reentering the room with the rag in one hand and a large goblet in the other.  He handed the rag to Dumbledore, then ran his finger along the inside lip of the cup.  After examining the granules that stuck to his finger, he touched them to his tongue.  "Sugar," he told them.  "Sugar was added to the potion, making it useless."

"Remus?"

"No, Lupin knows better.  If he adds sugar, he might as well not drink it."

The door burst open and a large black dog entered and took the shape of Sirius.  

"He's gone," he said solemnly.  "His trail just stops about 200 meters into the woods."  He noticed Moira looking up at him.  He softened.  "Are you all right, Moira?"

"Yes," she answered, but not feeling all right at all.  Where was Remus?      


	17. Chapter 17

In the Past

            Two men were making their way down the sidewalk, both wearing very expensive robes.  They did not notice that a gentleman now walked before them who had been several yards ahead just a moment ago.    Nor did they notice the attractive young woman reading the newspaper at the bus stop across from the alley.

            Suddenly, the man in front of them turned, his wand drawn as Alastor Moody stepped out from the alley and Moira dropped the newspaper, flanking their sides, but staying back far enough to cut off a retreat.

            "Mr. Rosier, Mr. Schultz, you are both wanted for questioning by the Ministry of Magical Law for the torture of Thelon Lipking," Donavan Orwell told them in a commanding voice.  "Relinquish your wands."  

The two men glanced around them, seeing Moira and Moody on either side.

            "And if we do not?" Schultz asked.

            "We'll take you by force," Moody answered.  From the twinkle in his eye, he seemed to relish the idea.

            "By force?  That seems a little extreme," Rosier commented sarcastically.

            "Whatever is necessary," Orwell told him.

            "Drop your wands," Moira said, trying to stay calm.  The longer they bantered, the more likely they were to pull something.

            Rosier was holding both hands out from his sides, wandless.

            "I am unarmed.  There is no reason for violence."  His smile was unnerving.  "Of course, any decent wizard doesn't really need a wand.  See?"  He began waving his arms.

            A movement in the corner of her eye told Moira Schultz had slid his wand out of his sleeve.  She turned, whipping her wand at him to stupefy him.  

            Schultz had cast his spell as Moira cast hers.  As he fell to the ground, Orwell too fell, dead.  At the same moment, Moody grunted as Rosier shoved him to the side and causing him to fall against the brick building as he made his escape.

            "Are you okay, Alastor?"  Blood streamed down his face.  

            "Yeah," he answered.  "No.  Dammit, he got away."

            "No, he didn't," Moira answered, running after him. 

"O'Shaughnessy!"

Moira didn't answer.  She sped down the pavement, her keen eyes catching Rosier as he slid around a corner.  Moira threw herself flat against the wall and glanced around the building.  It was a narrow alley.  Fire escapes crawled up the sides of the buildings on either side, but he was not on them, nor had she heard the clatter of running on the loose steel of an escape.

"Lumos."  Her wand lit the alley, allowing her to see as she stepped slowly inside, her eyes searching the dark corners, though she knew he had probably disapparated.

"O'Shaughnessy?"  The voice echoed through the closed in space.  She turned, trying to find the location.  "I knew an O'Shaughnessy once.  Are you his Little One?"

"Show yourself, Rosier," she called into the darkness.  "You're not getting out of here-"

"Alive?  The last time you threatened my life, nothing happened.  Well, to me anyway."  His laughter echoed more loudly than his words had.

"I plan to remedy that," she said, her eyes flicking to a shadow which had moved slightly against the wall.

"A bit of Hide 'n Seek, Little One?  I bet your father played that game with you."

"No," she answered, trying to keep him talking.  "My father taught me different games."  She narrowed her eyes at a shadow crouching nearby.  "He taught me how to fight without a wand."

"Really?  How very Muggle of him."

"From someone like you, that's a compliment."

"It's rather dark in here, don't you think?"

"It's bright enough to find you, so long as you don't run away like the coward you are."

"I like to face my enemies," he answered.  "I like to see the pain on their face right before I kill them."

Moira moved away from the crouching shadow, making him think she had passed by, but kept her eyes on it, waiting for him to show himself.

"Don't you remember, Little One?  Did you see the look on your father's face when I killed dear old Mum?  I'd like to see that look on your face."  The shadow shifted.  "I think we need more light.  Firaga!"

"Avada Kedavra!" she cried pivoting toward the shadow.  Suddenly, her hand was engulfed in flames, as if the fire was rising from her own skin and spread quickly up her arm.  In pain, she dropped her wand, and whipped her cloak over her shoulder, trying to put out the flames which had risen to her shoulder and were spreading to her back.  Dropping to the ground, she rolled, trying to stop the flames.  Another cloak was thrown over her head.  She flailed her arm, trying to fight him off.

"Hold still, O'Shaughnessy," Moody growled, smothering the fire.  He knelt over her, one eye examining her arm while his magical eye roamed toward the shadow beyond.  "Well, you got 'im," he said.  "And he got you."

The pain in her arm and back were excruciating.  The stench of burnt flesh reached her nostrils.  Her burnt flesh.  

"Come on," he said, grabbing her wand where she had dropped it.  "Let's get you to the Hospital."

Sirius threw open the hospital doors.  Grabbing the first nurse he saw, he cried:

"O'Shaughnessy! Moira O'Shaughnessy!  Where is she?"

"I don't know," she answered, pulling her arm out of his grip.  "Go check at the desk."

Sirius raced over to the desk, but saw no one.  He slammed his hand down on the bell over and over, trying to get someone's attention.  An older witch dressed in white approached him, removed the bell from under his hand and placed it under the counter.

"Can I help you?"

"Yes, an Auror was brought in here earlier.  Moira O'Shaughnessy."

"Oh, yes.  The burn victim."  Sirius wavered at the word 'victim.'  "Are you family?" she asked.

"Yes.  No.  Almost.  I'm her fiancé."

The witch's face softened.

"Oh.  She's in Surgical B," she said, pointing down a long hallway.  "Go all the way to the end.  It's on the right."

Sirius was already running down the hallway, his heart pounding as he pushed past doctors, nurses, and other patients.  As he neared the room, he saw several men in black robes standing in a group just outside the door.  One of them glanced up at him, and Sirius recognized Alastor Moody, with bright pink scars, newly healed wounds, across his forehead and nose.  He said something to the other men and stepped away from them to meet Sirius at the door.

"Black."

"Moody, how's Moira?"

"She'll be fine.  She's a tough kid.  The doctor's with her now."

"What happened?"

Moody glanced over his shoulder at the men, who Sirius now recognized as other Aurors, and laid his hand on Sirius shoulder, leading him a little further away.

"We found Rosier and Schultz, Donavan, Moira, and me.  When we surrounded them, Schultz killed Donavan, and the Rosier made a run for it.  Moira went after him and cornered him in an alley.  He got her with an Elemental Curse, Firium.  Turned her own body heat against her."

Sirius' face hardened.  

"Did he get away?"

"No.  She got him at the same time.  Much harder."  The look in Moody's eyes answered his next question.  

Sirius felt light-headed.

            "You okay, Black?" Moody asked.

            "Yeah," Sirius answered, closing his eyes.  "Moira killed him?"

            Moody nodded, looking at him strangely.  "It was her or him.  She made the right choice.  All these guys are here to congratulate her.  We've been after Rosier for a while."

            But Sirius wasn't listening.  Moira had taken a life.  She'd used an Unforgivable Curse on a Death Eater.  And these men were here to congratulate her.  Even though she knew Rosier had been the one who killed her parents, he knew the fact that she had killed would weigh heavily on her, no matter how tough she acted.

            "Is that why you're here?  To congratulate her too?"

            Moody eyes him carefully.  "Black, I knew Moira when she was still a toddler on her father's lap.  I've watched her grow up.  I think we both know the last thing she's going to want is a party in her honor."

            "Do you mind if I go see her now?"  Sirius asked.

            "No.  I just wanted to let you know before you go in there.  Oh, and Black, it's not as bad as it looks.  Just remind yourself of that."

            "Thanks," he replied as he walked past him and looked in through the window on the door.  Moira sat on the edge of a table, holding a gown over her chest with her right hand, leaving her left side and back exposed.  A doctor moved about her back, moving his wand very slowly across her skin.  Moira's eyes were shut tight, her jaw clenched, holding in any pain she felt.

            Sirius pushed open the door and slid inside.  The doctor looked up.

            "I'm sorry, sir.  I've already asked all of you to wait outside."  

            Moira opened her eyes and looked up at him.

            "Sirius?  Please, Doctor, let him stay.  He's my fiancé."

            I see.  Mr. Black?  I'm Doctor Madonas," he said, holding out his hand.  "Miss O'Shaughnessy was telling me about you."

            "Glad to meet you," he answered.  "How is she?"  He stepped closer to see the blackened skin covering her arm and shoulder. 

            "Well done," Moira answered.

            "No, Miss O'Shaughnessy.  You're just blackened.  Luckily, the inside is still medium rare," Madonas told her with a smile.

            "Well it's good to see you still have your humor," Sirius said blandly.

           "You rather I scream like a mad woman?"

            "Please don't," Madonas said.  "I don't want all those men outside to think I'm hurting you.  I don't think they'd let me out of here alive."  He leaned close to her skin again.  "All right.  Let's get back to work.  This will hurt a little."  Her teeth clenched again as he touched his wand to her back.  She squeezed her eyes shut.  Sirius leaned her head against his chest, gently running his fingers through her hair to comfort her.

            "Don't touch my neck," she gasped as his fingers brushed her skin.

            "Mr. Black, don't touch her neck," the doctor said, glancing up.  Sirius looked down to see that the burn covered the side of her neck and extended across half of her back.

            "It's not as bad as it looks," she told him, hearing his breath catch.  "It just means I can't wear an open backed dress."

            "An open backed dress will be fine, Miss O'Shaughnessy.  The scarring will be minimal back here," Madonas said, laughing softly.  "Though I may recommend long sleeves.  You did say it would be a fall wedding, did you not?"

            "Uh huh.  October 4th."

            They continued talking for the next hour, while the doctor continued down her arm to her hand.  Sirius realized the pain didn't seem so bad while she was talking.  The doctor was taking her mind off of it.  The burn as he worked over the skin, and when he reached her fingers, he straightened and stretched.

            "Perhaps I should give you a few minutes before we begin again?"  He began rubbing a lotion over her arm and back.  "This will keep the moisture in, and should feel pretty cool.  I'll be back in half an hour."  He smiled and walked toward the door.  "Can I send anything to you?"

            "Water," Moira answered.  "Ice cold."

            "I'll send a nurse," he answered.

            "Sirius, help me slip this on," she said when the doctor disappeared.

            "Won't it hurt?"

            "It'll sting, but I saw Remus and the Potters in the hall.  It would be a little uncomfortable having them in here with most of me exposed."  

            Sirius stood between her and the window, so no one looking in could see her as she slipped the gown off her right arm.  Still covering her, he slid it carefully over her left arm so she wouldn't have to bend it, then held the sleeve so she could slid her right arm back in. 

            "Tie it loosely behind my neck."  He did so, making sure it was loose enough not to scrape across her injuries.  When he was finished, he stepped aside so Moira could wave to Lily, who was peeking in the window.  She entered, followed by James and Remus.

            "How are you?" Lily asked, kissing her on the cheek.

            "I'm fine.  I'm doing much better," she said, accepting a kiss from James too.

            "You look crispy," he said with a playful smile. 

            "You should have seen me a few hours ago.  We could have roasted marshmallows."  She smiled up at Sirius who was frowning at her.

            "It's not funny, Moira.  You could have been killed."

            "But I wasn't."

            "He's right, Moira," Remus said.  He kept his distance, standing near the door.  His amber eyes flicked up to hers, then settled on her arm.  "You could have been killed."

            "Oh come on.  If I wallow in self-pity every time someone tries to kill me, I'd be in St. Mungo's right now." 

            "Moira, this is getting dangerous."

            "No, Sirius.  It's always been dangerous."  Moira frowned back at him.  "I knew that when I took the job.  And in case you haven't noticed, I have died yet.  I'm still right here in front of you."

            "And what about the next time?" he asked quietly.

            "What about it?"

            "Listen to him, Moira.  Please," Remus pleaded, but quieted after James shot him a tense look. 

            "Moira," Sirius said softly, getting down on his knee and looking up into her face.  "You have no idea what I went through today.  I can't imagine going through this again."

            "What do you want me to do?  Quit?"

            "No.  I just want you to stop taking risks."

            "The job is a risk."

            "No, splitting up from your back-up is a risk.  Especially with Rosier.  You knew how dangerous he was."

            "All the more reason to stop him."

            "All the more reason to have someone with you.  Don't forget, you're playing with both of our lives now.  I don't know what I'd do without you."

            James took his wife's hand and gently pulled her toward the door, motioning for Remus to follow.  He could see that these two needed some time.  And Remus looked like he needed some air.  He'd paled drastically since he entered the room.


	18. Chapter 18

Moira walked slowly to her classroom.  Remus had been missing for fourteen hours now, with no sign of where he could be.  She had been out late with Sirius, Severus, and Dumbledore searching for clues about his disappearance.  Disapparation was unlikely.  In his transformed state, he would have been unable to do the magic, and his wand had been found in the house.

The sounds of teenage chatter met her ears as she pulled the heavy door to her classroom open and entered.  Some of the chitchat died down, though not all students seemed to notice she had entered yet.  She didn't bring her usual energy with her.  Step quietly down the steps, she noticed several Slytherins leaning forward listening to a conversation Harry was having with Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley.  A few key words reached her ears, alarming her: dream, Voldemort, Lupin, scar, pain.  Moira stopped where she was and scribbled a note on a piece of parchment and slid it to Harry.

"Mr. Potter, please take this not to Professor Dumbledore."  She looked intently at him, meeting his eyes, then glanced down at the note, silently telling him to read it.

            "Tell no students of your dream.  Go directly and tell Professor Dumbledore.  No delays."

Harry looked back up at her and nodded, probably feeling a little confused, then pushed back from the table, gathered his things and left the room.

"Now, Class, we shall pick up where we left off yesterday."    

Harry went directly to Dumbledore's office, wondering what had happened that Professor O'Shaughnessy had become so alarmed.  He paused only to guess the password to the gargoyle guarding the entrance (after a long list, the gargoyle sprung to life and jumped aside at Fizzing Whizbee) and stepped onto the foot of the spiral staircase, which moved slowlytoward the poliched oak door with the brass doorknocker.  Harry knocked and waited.  When no answer came, he knocked again, calling out to Professor Dumbledore.    When still no answer came, he pushed tentatively at the door and it swung open.  

"Professor Dumbledore?" Harry called, poking his head inside.  Fawkes the Pheonix squawked at him.  An ugly, featherless bird, Harry guessed her had recently been reborn.  Harry looked around.  No one was in sight.  He entered the room, deciding that since he had been sent there by a teacher, he should stay until Dumbledore showed up.  Besides, it was probably the most curious room in the entire castle, filled with items he had never dreamed of before.  He glanced at the Sorting Hat and admired Godric Gryffindor's Sword, then noticed the stone bowl sitting out on Dumbledore's desk.  

His penseive.

Harry had seen the peseive before when he accidentally fell into some of Dumebledore's memories.  Eager not to make the same mistake, he ignored it and began examining the books on a shelf.  His curiosity, however, was stronger than his will.  Harry glanced over and saw two familiar faces floating on the top of the silver liquid.

Harry recognized Professor O'Shaughnessy, but she wasn't Professor O'Shaughnessy.  She was too young, perhaps in her mid-twenties.  She was sitting in the office, holding Sirius' hand.

            "Professor?  Sirius and I are getting married.  And, well, my father- I- You've been practically a father to me since- so I was wondering, will you walk me down the aisle?  Will you stand in for Papa?"

            Harry heard the door open behind him and turned to find Professor Dumbledore quietly regarding him.  He was smiling sadly as his eyes fell on the Penseive.

            "It would have been my honor, Moira," he said to the face.  "But fate would not allow it to be so."

            "Professor?" Harry started, his eyes falling back on the face of his Dark Arts professor.  "She and Sirius?  Were married?"

            "No, I'm afraid not, Harry.  Circumstances worked against them.  That day never came for them."

            "Wormtail, you mean," Harry said.  "When Sirius went to Azkaban-"

            "Moira left."

            "But- but he was innocent!"

            "She did not know that.  Neither did I, for that matter.  You must understand, Harry, there was so much fear in those days; anyone could have been an enemy.  Even those we loved the most."       

            Dumbledore stepped forward and swished the contents of the Penseive, then set it down for Harry to see.  Again he saw the face of Professor O'Shaugnessy, but she was pale.  He eyes were puffy and red, as if she'd been crying.

            "I'm sorry, Professor.  I just can't stay here, even with Him gone.  There's just too much-"  Fresh tears ran down her cheeks.  Her lips trembled.  "Too much to remind me.  Of all of them."  She turned away, as if to leave, then glanced back over her shoulder.  "Tell Remus I'm sorry I didn't say goodbye."

            "Few had more to remember than you, my child."  Dumbledore's face was sad as he looked down at her.  It turned quickly into Lupin's face.  

            "But how could she leave?" he was asking, panicked.  "How could she just-" 

"I'm sorry, Remus," Dumbledore said as he picked up the Penseive and set it back in the cupboard, locking the doors.  "Now Harry, this is the second time you've read my thoughts."  He smiled.  "What can I do for you?"

Harry was stunned for a moment at what he'd seen before remembering why he had been sent. 

"Professor O'Shaugnessy sent me.  My scar hurt this morning, and I had a dream."

"About what?"

"Professor Lupin."

Dumbledore's closed his eyes as if in pain, then looked back up at him.

"Harry, tell me everything."


	19. Chapter 19

            Remus awoke in darkness.  He was lying on the floor, damp stone that chilled him all the way through, his ragged clothes offering little warmth.  His brain spun in his skull, causing dizziness and nausea as he tried to sit up, but found his arms were quite heavy, restrained by heavy iron shackles, which were anchored to the wall and allowed little movement.  He leaned against the wall, staring, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness and tell him where he was.  In time, he could make out stone walls all around him, and a large oak door to his right. 

            He was a captive.  But where?  Had Dumbledore found him and placed him here for safety?

            No.  Dumbledore would never have shackled him, for to wake up restrained was terrifying.  Even after-

            Dear gods, what had he done?  He could vaguely remember bits and pieces, but he knew he had attacked Moira.  He prayed he had not harmed her seriously, or worse.

            The scrape of the latch being lifted drew his attention to the door.  Slowly it opened.

            Moira, Severus, Sirius, McGonagall, and Filius Flitwick were gathered in Dumbledore's office, sitting and standing in various places, their eyes riveted on the Headmaster and the young man standing beside him.  Harry Potter's eyes strayed between his godfather, Sirius, and Professor O'Shaughnessy, still stunned by the information he had learned in Dumbledore's penseive.  Professor O'Shaughnessy sat very still in a high backed chair, her eyes stony and serious.  There was no glow about her, no energy that she exuded during classes or when he saw her in the Great Hall.  She was a grim-faced soldier, waiting for information and a mission.  Harry could see that she must have been a very dangerous Auror in her day.

            Sirius leaned against the wall behind her, his arms folded across his chest.  He too was silent and serious, but Harry could see something there he did not see in Professor O'Shaughnessy.  His eyes gave away emotion far more clearly than hers.  He was worried.  Sirius' large brown eyes gave it away.  They were almost haunted as he glanced down momentarily at Professor O'Shaughnessy, then up at Harry.  He smiled grimly.

            "I am afraid that the mystery of Remus Lupin's disappearance may have a very serious explanation," Dumbledore was saying.  "And that explanation is quite distressing to me."  He took a moment to examine the faces of those around him.  "As we all are aware, Young Mr. Potter here at times can see and feel Voldemort when his wrath is at its worst."  The men and women in the room nodded, as if this was common knowledge.  "And last night, he had a most disturbing dream.  Harry, please share what you saw."

            "Uh, well, I saw Professor Lupin, a werewolf, in some woods.  He was running, as if escaping something.  And then flashes of light and the werewolf fell to the ground.  Peter- Peter Petigrew was there, and behind him, a man in a black cloak.  Voldemort.  He told him to take the werewolf back to the stronghold and keep him there."

            "Stronghold?" Snape spoke up.  "Is this the _exact_ word he used?" 

            "Yes," Harry answered, slightly surprised that Snape had neither hissed at him nor demeaned him in any way.

            "Does this mean something to you, Severus?"  Dumbledore's blue eyes were fixed on the Potions master.

            "Voldemort holds many properties throughout England.  I have heard him refer to only one as a stronghold, though I, personally, have never been there.  Supposedly, it is an old castle, broken down and out of use, but for the subterranean levels.  It holds an entire fortress underground, unseen from above."

            "Do you know where it is?"

            "No.  None of his followers are allowed total access to any of his holdings.  I know of only a few who have seen this one."  

            "Harry."  It was Professor O'Shaughnessy who addressed him this time.  "You said you saw a werewolf and referred to him as Professor Lupin.  How can you be sure it was him?"

            "Peter Petigrew referred to him as Lupin, no, Remus.  He called him Remus.  He, he kind of kicked him when he was down and asked him if he liked the sugar in his tea."

            "He said that?  He actually said that?"  She exchanged a tense look with Snape and mouthed the word 'How?'

            "He must have slipped into the house," Sirius said softly, "and poured sugar into the cup.  It was left sitting downstairs when I went to find Remus to let him know Snape had brought it by."

            "Well," Dumbledore sighed, "know we know what happened and how.  Now we need to know the why.  Harry, you may go back to the Common Room.  Speak of this to no one."  When Harry was gone, Dumbledore looked around at those still in the room.  "That Voldemort had Remus taken to his stronghold gives me hope that he is still alive.  However, we need to learn exactly where he is and what is to be done with him.  Severus, you must discover all you can about this."

            "It will be difficult.  Those who ask too many questions are suspect."

            "I understand.  Be careful."  When Snape nodded, Dumbledore continued.  "As for the rest of us, we must keep our eyes and ears open.  We have many students here who are aware of what their parents, their very dangerous parents, do.  Pay careful attention to what they say and do.  Many are not disciplined enough not to brag or threaten when they feel their parents have some upper hand.

            "And as for Remus, we must be patient, and hope we can discover his location before Voldemort's plot, whatever it may be, comes to fruition."

            "Remus, how are you?  Feeling a little ill perhaps?  You look as if the effects of the moon have not yet worn off."

            Remus blinked up at Peter Petigrew hovering smugly above him.

            "Wormtail, I should have known you had something to do with this."

            "With what?  With saving your pathetic life?  Moira certainly hasn't lost any of her old flair, with trying to kill you and all.  Don't you remember, old friend?  Why else would you have attacked her?"

            "You're a fool, Peter, if you think I would believe that."

            "You're right.  But I'm sure you do remember her holding a knife at you.  Is that the way friends treat each other nowadays?  Or is that only werewolves?" 

            Remus leapt to his feet so quickly, Peter fell over backwards to get away from him.  He scrambled back to his feet when he saw the chains tighten and hold Remus back.  A deep laugh escaped his throat..

            "It always surprised me, you know, that you and she never ended up together.  You were both so close when we were in school.  And you did love her.  Don't think that dim little Peter never noticed the way you looked at her.  But then, it's no wonder she ended up with Sirius.  He was always so cool, so handsome, so rich.  So unlike Remus Lupin in his ragged robes and his sickly mother.  Do you really think he had no idea how you felt?  Of course he did.  He didn't care.  None of them really did.  You were always just the werewolf.  He and James only hung out with you because you were a werewolf, a secret no one else could have."

            "Liar."

            "Am I?  Remus, you were more powerful than both of them put together, and yet they were always telling you what to do.  They controlled you.  You were their pet."   

            Lupin's eyes were aflame as he backed up against the wall.  Peter stepped closer. 

            "Were James still alive, you would be wearing a collar and leash right now."

            Lupin lashed out with his arm, leaning back against the wall for as much distance as the chain would allow.  He caught Peter by the throat, and the little man twisted and flailed in his grip, before swinging his silver hand, a gift from Lord Voldemort, around and striking Remus hard on the side of the head.  He fell to the ground, blood trickling from his temple.

            Peter backed away, trembling as Remus looked up at him with malice shining in his eyes, before collapsing to the ground.  Even with Lupin restrained and unconscious, Peter nearly ran to the door, threw it open, and escaped to the other side.  


	20. Chapter 20

Hogsmeade Weekend had finally found its day on the calendar.  There had been much talk about canceling to postponing, but in the end, Dumbledore had not reason not to allow the excursion as planned.  There were no discernible threats.  No dangers to keep aware of.  Moira and Snape were both placed on the list as chaperones, much to Snape's consternation, just to keep an eye out.

            Bundled in her warmest cloak on the crispy November afternoon, Moira walked about the street, watching as students hoarded around the small shops, filling their pockets with all sorts of nonsense she was sure would be confiscated within the week.  Smaller students gathered about Honeyduke's, buying sugar quills and fizzy drops, and manner of sugar encrusted delights, while the older students sat around mugs of Butterbeer at Three Broomsticks, discussing all the important topics: Who does he like?  Where'd she get that robe?  What does he see in her?

            All the while, Moira's eyes took in everything about the students: who they talked to, how they acted, how secretive they seemed.  Some of these kids were the sons and daughters of the most powerful of Voldemort's supporters.  Could one of them know something? 

            "Things never seem to change," a voice behind her commented.

            "Well, things are much simpler when you're fifteen, Severus."

            "Perhaps for you."

            "Come on, Mr. Personality.  Let's get a drink and warm up a bit."

            Moira pushed open the heavy door and they were greeted with a rush of warm air and the indistinct chatter of a full room.  The professors slipped between tables and found an unnoticed table with three chairs nestled into a cove near the back.  They settled into their chairs and Snape motioned to Rosemerta.  A scowl passed over his face as Raiza Runyan, a sixth year Slytherin, noticed him sitting with Moira and began whispering feverishly to the girls around her, all of whom looked over at them, giggling.

            "I'm sure by this evening it will be all over the school that we were seen here together," Snape sneered under his breath.

            "What's wrong, Severus?  Are you nervous the students may think you're human and _not_ hatched from an egg?"

            "What the students think of me is not at issue.  I rather don't care about their opinions.  What bothers me is the speed with which gossip, especially inaccurate gossip, makes its way around the school."

            "Especially when it concerns your private life, it seems."

            "You miss the point, Moira."

            "And you forget that these are teenagers at school.  They are walking, talking hormones, and because they have crushes and fall in love at the drop of a hat, they believe everyone else is at that exact moment.  Don't forget, Severus, we were also once just like them."

            "Speak for yourself.  The only thing I had in common with them was my height."

            "I recall having more than one conversation with you regarding Miss Lana Grinfield's misplaced affections."

            "She was a fool."

            "So I take it you didn't attend her wedding?"

            Snape shot her a look of pure malice.

            "I'm just saying that you were more like these kids than you care to admit," she said defensively.  "Unrequited love is very difficult at this age."

            He raised an eyebrow at her as a thin smile spread across his face.

            "I'm sure there are better experts on this topic."

            "As far as experts on this topic go," Moira said, leaning across the table. "Did you know about Remus, or were you guessing?"

            "As an expert, I knew years ago.  All the signs were there, especially the tell tale.  He distanced himself from you when you began dating Black.  Even the blindest idiot could have seen it, which explains how Potter knew."

            "Christ, James knew?  Was there anyone in the school _besides_ me who didn't know?"

            "If it helps you sleep at night, he hid it well."

            "Well thank you very much."  She sighed heavily and leaned back in her seat.  "So why did you finally decide to clue me in, since you dislike Remus so much?"

            "Because while I dislike Lupin, I loathe Black."  He smirked.  "It actually gives me a warm fuzzy feeling to know he is getting hurt.  You _have_ told him, haven't you?"

            "That his best friend liked me when we were in school?  What would that solve?" 

            "I'm talking about _you,_ Moira.  Don't pretend like you don't know what I'm talking about.  If I'm nothing else, I am perceptive."

            "You're a cupid from hell, that's what you are."

            "Do you deny it?"

            "That you're Cupid from hell?"

            "That you have feelings for the werewolf."

            "Gods," she exclaimed, throwing up her hands, "you know exactly how to take a perfectly adult conversation and turn it into a childish name-calling contest."

            "I'll take that as a yes."

            "I can't believe I'm discussing this with you."

            "As opposed to whom?  Black?  I'm sure he'd enjoy this conversation."

            "Point taken.  No, I haven't told him yet.  How do you tell a guy who just spent thirteen years in prison for a crime he didn't commit that you don't love him anymore?"

            "As cruelly as you can," Snape offered with dark smile.

            Remus was jolted awake by the scrape of metal on metal, a latch being lifted on his heavy prison door.  He watched as a small flap at the bottom of his door was lifted open and a tin plate screeched across the floor and stopped just a few feet from him before the flap was closed again and re-latched. He had to reach out with his foot to catch the plate and pull its meager contents closer.  Although he was starving, his stomach tightened at the sight of it.

            Stale bread, and not much of it.  He picked up a piece and, dipping it into his water to soften it, took a bite, fighting his gag reflex at the taste and smell of mold.  The last time he'd been given food was three days ago, and, not knowing when the next meal would come, he could not waste what he was given.

            His meager meal finished, Remus slumped back against the wall, too weak to move more than was necessary.  He knew that, soon, Peter would return with his fellows in black robes.  Death Eaters.  He always brought two with him, since their first meeting together.  They would stand back silently while Peter reminded him what a monster he was and how the others looked on him as a pet rather than a man.  Then, those two men would step forward and torture him until he blacked out.  They seemed to take pleasure in that.  It was a schedule, a cycle that seemed to have no end.  He had nothing to do but wait for the next one and hope that he would be found soon.

            But then, they may not even be looking for him.  He had attacked Moira, he as sure of that.  Perhaps he had even killed her.  If that was so, he might as well just wait for the death stroke.  It didn't matter from whence it came.

            Remus hung his head into his arms.

            Gods, Moira, I'm sorry.

            Evening was settling over Hogsmeade, and it was time for Moira and Snape to begin corralling the students back toward the school.  Snape made the announcement within Three Broomsticks, much to the students' disappointment, and began pushing them out the door.  Once the pub was cleared, Moira emerged onto the street, relieved that the trip had been relatively uneventful.  

            Until she saw a hole forming in the crowd of students.  And heard the yells.  

            Racing toward the fight, she called out to Snape to follow and knew he was directly behind her.  They pushed through the students and found in the center Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy with their wands pointed a teach other.  She disarmed the two boys and stepped between them.

            "What is going on here?" Snape demanded.

            The boys gave no answer, but merely stared daggers.  A murmur spread through the crowd.

            "All of you, get back to the school," Moira yelled.  They were moving slowly, until she cried out, "Now!"  The crowd dispersed quickly.  "Now," she said, turning back to the boys, "I believe Professor Snape asked you a question.  What is going on?"

            "Nothing," Draco answered, "except that Potter here was upset by something he heard."  He smiled mischievously.

            "And I'm sure you're innocent in all this?" Moira asked.

            "I didn't do a thing.  I just asked him if _he_ heard the same conversation _I_ did."

            "And what conversation would that be?" Snape asked.

            "The one between you and Professor O'Shaughnessy.  I know how much Potter respects her, and I thought he might be interested."

            Moira glanced at Harry.  His face was red with fury.  When he turned his gaze toward her, Moira was taken aback.  His anger seemed to increase.  His jaw trembled the slightest bit, and Moira knew his fury was about to be unleashed.  Lily had always done the same thing.

            "I can't believe you would leave Sirius for this ugly-"

            "Potter!"

            "-big nosed-"

            "Harry!"

            "-slimy git!"

            Moira hit him with a silencing spell, and turned toward Snape while Harry's mouth continued to form a line of insults.

            "Severus, take Mr. Malfoy back to the school.  I'll deal with Potter here."  She handed him Malfoy's wand.

            "Moira, he is _not_ going to get away with this."

            "He won't.  _I_ certainly will not put up with it."

            Snape scowled at a lost opportunity to punish Potter, but knew Moira would deal with his insolence immediately.  It was not in her nature to give anyone special treatment in such a case, and he knew that.  Especially since he had been yelling at her as much as at him.  He led a smirking Malfoy away, leaving Moira behind with the boy.

            Moira regarded Harry for a moment, ignoring his angry looks.

            "Harry, I'm leaving this spell on you, because quite frankly, I don't care what you have to say right now.  And you will not be speaking again until you have calmed down.  Now turn and march."

            Harry glared at her before turning around and walking back up the road toward Hogwarts, with Professor O'Shaughnessy directly behind. 


	21. Chapter 21

            "I don't know what you were thinking.  Contrary to popular belief, the private lives of your professors are of no concern to the students, and you, as a student, have no right to judge or comment on it.  Certainly not in the manner you chose.  You insulted two professors this evening, young man.  And yes, I am deeply insulted by what you said.

"Do you believe that just because I was friends with your parents, that you have the right to decide my life?  I hate to disappoint you, Harry, but you don't.  You have _no_ right.  Nor do you have the right to disparage a perfectly brilliant Potions Master, simply because of the latest gossip you've heard around the school.  

"I simply have no idea what you were thinking, except that you weren't thinking at all.  Once again, you've you're your temper without thinking about what was going on.  It is more than obvious that you do not get along with Draco Malfoy, and yet once again, you've allowed him to goad you into getting into an altercation.  Do you ever learn?

"No, I suppose not.  For your punishment, young man, you will pen a letter of apology to both myself and to Professor Snape, to be delivered _by your hand _tomorrow.  In addition, you will be serving detentions with me for the remainder of the term.  Is that understood?"

Harry nodded. 

"Good.  Now, are you ready to speak civilly?"

            Harry nodded from his chair in the front row of her classroom where he had been sitting silently for nearly an hour.  He was still mad, but he wanted his voice back.

            "Good.  I will remove the spell, but remember, if you decide to finish the tirade you began in Hogsmeade, you will find yourself unable to speak again.  Understand?"

            Harry nodded again.  O'Shaughnessy flicked her wand at him.

            "Finite Silencio."  She leaned against her desk.  "Now, Harry, what do you have to say?"          

Harry cleared his throat, making sure he really did have his voice back.  Satisfied, he looked up at the professor.

            "How can you just leave Sirius for Snape?  You were _engaged_ to him!"

            O'Shaughnessy sighed.

            "Harry, Sirius had no right to tell you about our past together, and I will let him know that next time we speak, but as far as you are concerned-"

            "Sirius didn't tell me."

            "He didn't?"  She looked surprised.  "How did you find out?"

            "Dumbledore."

            "I find that highly unlikely."

            "No, really."  He didn't want to get Sirius in trouble for something he hadn't done.  "When you sent me to his office, he wasn't there.  I saw his penseive.  _You _were asking him to walk you down that aisle.  For your wedding.  With _Sirius_."

            She seemed to soften a little at the memory.

"Harry, that was years and years ago.  Things changed in that time.  Sirius understands that.  And he certainly doesn't need you to stand up for him.  He can do that on his own."  She stood up and crossed the room, handing him his wand.  "Now, I believe it is nearly time for dinner.  Why don't you get a move on?"

Harry retrieved his cloak from the back of his chair and moved toward the door.  He didn't want to remain in her presence any longer than he had to.  Quickly, he crossed the room, but as he reached for the door, she stopped him.

"Harry, I don't know if it will make you feel any better, but I'm not in any relationship with Professor Snape.  I promise you that."

He looked back at her.  It was obvious that she was trying to make him feel better.  And, perhaps she was telling the truth, but he was still upset about what he had heard.  She was leaving Sirius.  After everything he had been through, and everything he meant to Harry, she wasn't even giving him a chance.  He thought about it for just a moment, but dismissed.  He knew the next words out of his mouth would hurt her, and he was glad for it.  He wanted to hurt her.

"Professor, My Aunt Petunia may not really care anything for me, but at least she's loyal.  She wouldn't leave my uncle just because she didn't see him for a while, or if someone better came along."  He didn't honestly know if that was true.  He didn't really know her at all, but the words had done the trick.  Professor O'Shaughnessy's face fell.

Harry shut the door quickly behind him.  He didn't want to see the harm he had done.

Moira collapsed against her desk, anger rippling through her body.  She tensed, needing an outlet before she exploded in fury.  Grabbing a book from her desk, she flung it across the room.  It smacked the wall with a loud WHAP, before falling to the ground.  It didn't back her feel  much better, but it straightened her thinking a little.

Emotion, certainly anger, would get her nowhere.  It clouded the mind when logic needed desperately to take hold, but Harry certainly wasn't helping matters any.  She leaned her head down into her hands, trying to think logically.  Resources needed to be ordered and categorized.  What were her remaining connections?  What could be useful?  What tools did she have?  Automatically, her hand reached out for parchment and quill.

Snape.  Death Eater.  He was certainly useful as far as information concerning the circle, but as far as locating Remus, she wasn't sure how trusted he was by Voldemort.  His information would be limited, at best.

Ministry.  Limited at best.  According to Dumbledore, Fudge seemed determined not to get involved.  Unlikely to provide manpower, especially to a retired Auror who had simply disappeared for a number of years.  Trusted Aurors?  Alastor Moody  (possibly crazy), Mundungus Fletcher (possibly provide current information, if not crazy), Arabella Figg

Moira stared down at the name.  She hadn't been an Auror, but she had always been useful in collating information.  Perhaps she could check out holdings of known Death Eaters, see if any matched Snape's description of the 'Stonghold.'

Students.

She dropped her quill in disgust.  Her placement in the school was limiting her.  So far, nothing the students did was helpful to her, especially as far as locating Remus.  None of her usual methods of interrogation could be used on them, certainly not without afflicting great harm.  And if she tried, parents would be alarmed.

Parents.  Parents would be alarmed of a threat to their children.  They become emotional.  They make mistakes.

Moira strode across the room to her private office, lit a fire, and dropped a spring of Floo Powder into the flames.  When they burst into an emerald color, she spoke.

"Albus, do you have the list of students staying over the holidays yet?"

"Yes, Moira.  Just a moment."  There was silence, then: "I have it right here."

"Which Slytherin students will be staying with us?"

More silence as he looked over the list.

"None," he answered incredulously.

Moira was surprised.  It was certainly not what she had expected.

"None?  You're positive?  Is that normal?"

"No, Moira, that's not normal at all." 


	22. Chapter 22

            Remus carried a cup of strong coffee into the living room of Moira's apartment, where she sat on the couch with her sockinged  feet resting on the table and her heavily bandaged arm stretched out beside her.  He turned the cup in his hand, feeling the heat of it in his palm as she reached up and hooked her fingers through the handle.

_            "Thank you, Remus."  She took a sip, then looked up at him seriously.  "Remus, can I ask you a question? And you have every right not to answer.  I mean, it is kind of private."_

_            "Go ahead."_

_            "Are you- you know- gay?"_

_            The smile slowly disappeared from his face as her question sank in.  He was stunned.  How could she possibly think he was-_

_            "Gay?"_

_            "Yeah.  It's just, well, you're the total package.  I mean, you're incredibly smart."  She began ticking off his qualities on her fingers.  "You're really nice and funny.  You can cook.  You treat woman like they're all royalty.  Remus, there's nothing about you that every woman doesn't want, yet in all these years, I've never seen you with a girlfriend.  You've hung out with them, but never dated one."_

_            He settled onto the couch next to her, staring straight ahead._

_            "Moira, I am not gay.  Believe me, if I were, you'd be the first person to know.  However, I am also not quick to jump into anything with anyone.  Don't forget, one week a month, I'm really not much fun to be around.  Not many women are willing to take that on."  _

_            "Oh, I don't know," she said, flipping on her television and snuggling under his arm.  "One week a month, I'm not a lot of fun to be around either."_

_            "There's a big difference between bitchy and deadly."  He grinned at her._

_            "Oh, come on Remus.  I don't think you're all that bitchy."  She grinned back.  "So you're positively not gay?"_

            Remus sat, staring into those big green eyes and small mouth, curved up in a smile.  It would probably be his only chance.  He leaned down and pressed his lips against hers.    She had been caught off-guard, but gave no resistance, even going so far as to lean into him.  He grazed her teeth with his tongue and nibbled her bottom lip before leaning back on the couch and diverting his eyes back to the television, completely aware he could go no further.  His desire for her was rising too quickly.

            She stared at him for what seemed like ages, her eyes wide, fingers touching her lips where, he knew, she could still taste him, as he could still taste her.

            "No," she said finally, leaning back on the couch.  "You are definitely straight."

            "That's what I told you."

Remus was roused from his reverie when the room was suddenly flooded with light. He covered his eyes with his arm, too weak to rise from the cold ground where he lay.  The chains were feeling heavier each day.

"Mister Lupin, we meet at last."

Moving his arm just enough to see the figure standing before him, Remus gasped.  The hood of the black cloak had been thrown back, revealing the grotesquely smooth face of Lord Voldemort.

Moira was sitting near the edge of the lake, her knees drawn to her chest, a cigarette dangling precariously between her fingers.  She didn't turn at the sound of the light footsteps on the grass.  She already knew who it was.

"Hello, Sirius."

"Moira.  How's everything at the school?"

"Why do you ask?"  

He sat beside her.

"Harry said he was serving quite a bit of detention time for you." 

"Did he tell you what he did?"

"Just that he lost his temper and insulted both you and Snape.  Mind telling me what it was about?"

"Yes.  I do."  She looked over at him.  "You shouldn't be here, Sirius.  One of the students might see you."

"It's after midnight and they're all in bed.  Besides, I was worried about you.  You haven't been by."  His eyes fixed on her cigarette as she lifted it to her mouth and took a slow drag.  "When did you take up smoking?"

"Not long after you were arrested."  She released the smoke, which curled in the crisp December air.  "I quit a few years ago."

"I can see that."

"I'm just worried about Remus.  He's been gone a long time, and we have no real leads to find him."

Sirius looked into her face, but she didn't look back at him.  He studied her eyes and sighed.

"Snape's been digging around.  He said it's been quiet with the Death Eaters, like everything has suddenly stopped.  Very calm."

"That's what worries me."  She looked over at him, the look in her eyes startling him.  "Something's about to happen.  I know it is.  It's always calmest just before the storm."

"Moira, your composure is unsettling."

            She looked up at him, gaze steady, resolved.

            "What would you have me do?  Scream?  Tear out my hair?  What would that solve?"

            "Nothing.  It's just, you're being so damned logical!"  He stood up, pacing about her as she remained unmoved on the ground, smoking her cigarette.  "I'm going out of my mind with worry, and you're sitting here like this is some mental exercise!"

            "Sirius, sit down."

            "No, I will not sit down.  Damn it, Moira!  You've been like a machine ever since you came back.  Do you feel anything?  Are you really worried about Remus, or are you just saying that because you should?"

            Moira was on her feet in an instant, staring at Sirius with narrowed eyes, her fists clenched.

            "Of course I'm worried, and I'm angry, and I'm scared!  But what the hell is that going to do for me?  You want me to scream?  Huh?  Do you want me to cry, so that you can feel better?  So that you know I'm _sufficiently_ upset?"  She lowered her voice, controlled it.  "Don't you ever question whether or not I feel anything again, Sirius.  Certainly not where Remus is concerned.  I am going to find him, but I need to stay calm in order to do it.  I _need_ to be in control.  It's the only way."

            Sirius stared at her for a long time, stunned by both her words and her ferocity.  She had turned away from him, swept her pack of cigarettes back into her hand and was lighting one.  Her hands shook just slightly, but even as he watched her, the shaking stopped, as if she were gaining back control.  It was at that moment that Sirius realized just how hard she was working to stay calm. 


	23. Chapter 23

Professor O'Shaughnessy entered her classroom carrying a small box covered by a thin lavender cloth.  When she sat it on her desk, the class of Seventh Year students could hear the vibration of metal, a cage.  They leaned forward in their seats.

"Today, we are going to begin a study of the Borigun Fairy."

"We did fairies," a student offered.  "With Professor Lockhart."

A small smile crept across her face.

"I'm sorry.  _Professor_ Lockhart?  As in Gilderoy Lockhart?"

"Yes, ma'am."

The smirk grew larger.

"And you studied fairies?  Plain fairies?"

"Yes."

Professor O'Shaughnessy leaned against her desk, trying to control the laughter that was obviously trying to escape.  The class watched her closely, amused by her reaction to his name.  Finally, she seemed ready to continue.

"Well, then.  This should be boring to you compared to _his_ lesson."  She removed the cloth from the cage.  Within, a small blue fairy fluttered about in its cage.  "Borigun Fairy is not a true fairy.  It was named before it was studied, so those who came across it did not realize what it was.  Or was not.

            "They look very similar, but if you look closely enough, you will notice that it has six true wings, while fairies have only four.  Their bodies are also about half the length of a regular fairy.  That is about where the similarities end.

            "While fairies are generally found in forests and about streams, the Borigun Fairy and its relations are found most often around cliffs, deserts, dense jungles- just about anywhere dangerous, and, well, I'll just let you see what they do.  Now, please be very quiet.  If it comes toward you, it will not physically hurt you, so stay calm and wait to see what happens."  She reached out to lift the latch and let the creature out of the cage, when the muffled sounds of yells and running feet emanated from the door.  Her head jerked up at the sounds.

            "Mr. Jordan.  Open the door and see what's going on out there."   

Harry, Ron , and Hermione entered the Gryffindor Common Room and were surprised to see so many students at that time of day.  It was unusually loud, and they could tell something had happened.  They dropped their books on a table in front of Fred, George, and Lee, and stared in disbelief.  George's nose was caked with blood, his shirt ruined.  Fred looked only slightly better with a fat lip, and Lee had a black eye.

"What happened to you guys?" Hermione asked.

"There was a fight outside O'Shaughnessy's room," George answered with a smile.

"Did you guys start it?" Ron asked.  "Mom's gonna kill you both."

"No," Fred said excitedly, "but it was the coolest thing I've ever seen."

"Man, I will never act up in her room again," George chimed in.

"What happened?"  It was Harry this time.  He really wasn't interested in anything that had to do with O'Shaughnessy, but the condition of Lee, George, and Fred had piqued his interest.

Lee leaned across the table.  "She was getting ready to show us this fairy-thing, and there was this noise outside, like shouting and running.  I was sitting right in front of the door, so she asked me to go check it out, and it was a fight!  It was like the Slytherins finally snapped and started beating on each other!"

"So how did you guys get involved?"  Hermione had a perplexed look on her face.

George picked up where Lee had left off.  "Professor O'Shaughnessy took off into the hallway to break it up, but there were too many people, and no other teachers were around.  Goyle, that big ape, swung around and hit her."

"So we jumped in to help."  This time, it was Fred smiling at their astonished faces.

"How chivalrous."  Hermione didn't look amused.

"Oh, no.  She didn't need our help. She grabbed him by the collar and slammed him up against the wall."

"Now wait," George interrupted his brother.  "First, you guys know how small she is, right?  Goyle is at least four inches taller, and a hundred pounds heavier than she is."

"So anyway," Fred said, reclaiming his story, "she threw him against the wall.  Hard.  No magic."

"It was like everyone in the hall stopped fighting and just watched," Lee helped.

"So the hall was totally quiet, and he's pushing and trying to get away, and his feet aren't on the floor anymore!  She lifted him off the floor, with one hand!"

"Wicked," Ron breathed.  "All by herself?"

"That's not even the coolest part," George answered.  "She's not even paying attention to him.  She said in this really loud voice-"

"She didn't yell," Fred added.

"She said, 'There will be no more fighting in my hallway.'  And Goyle, the big idiot, is still pushing at her, trying to get down, and she turned back to him and said-"

"She said, 'If you touch me again, I will consider it an assault and defend myself accordingly.  And even without my wand, you will not find yourself the victor,' all calm, just like that," Fred finished.

George looked at him in mock scorn.  "That was the best part!"

"So then what?" Harry asked.

"Then, McGonagall and Snape came running," Lee told them.  "And McGonagall told O'Shaughnessy to put him down, but she didn't.  It's like she didn't even hear.  Snape went over and said something to her, and pushed her hand down, dropping Goyle on his ass.  He looked terrified!"

"What'd Snape say?" Hermoine wondered out loud.

"Don't know.  McGonagall was sending people to their towers.  Snape didn't look pissed, though.  Not till he took the Slytherins back to their tower himself.  And McGonagall took O'Shaughnessy somewhere.  We don't know where."

"Probably Dumbledore," Hermione answered.  "She assaulted a student.  She'll probably get fired."

"She broke up a fight, single-handed," Ron corrected.  "And she showed that big oaf what's what.  She's my new hero!"

"I think I have a crush!" Fred chimed in.

But Harry couldn't help but wonder why the Slytherins were fighting each other, and was about to voice his question when Professor McGonagall entered the room. The room died down instantly.  Professor McGonagall didn't come to the Common Room often, unless it was to give news to or to chide the House.

"Students, I'm sure you've all heard exaggerated accounts of the disturbance a little while ago.  I have no doubt those coming from the Weasley's will be the most colorful.  However, the fact is there was a fight in the corridor, which involved a good many students.  For this reason, all Houses will stay in their Common Rooms for remainder of the evening while we sort it out.  And I hope for your sakes, none of you were involved.  Dinner will be sent.  We don't want to chance mixing any of you together to finish what was started."

"Professor!" Fred called out as she turned to leave.  "What happened with Professor O'Shaughnessy?  She's not getting fired, is she?"

The room strained to hear her answer.

"I cannot say.  Professor Dumbledore is looking into the matter."

Deeper in the school, Moira sat before Dumbledore's desk.  He hadn't said a word to her yet, and that was more terrifying than if he had yelled and ranted.  But she knew that was not his way.

"Moira, what happened in the hallway?"  His blue eyes seemed worried.

"There was a fight, sir.  There were no other teachers around and I broke it up."

"I know that.  What I am curious about, is what happened with Goyle?  Minerva said that you didn't seem to know what you were doing."

She sighed.  She knew that's what he was asking about.

"He took a swing at me.  I'm sure he didn't realize who I was, but I restrained him, without magic.  I told the other students to stop fighting, and Goyle was still trying to push me away.  I gave him a bit of a warning about attacking teachers."

"A warning or a threat?"

"A warning, sir."

Professor Dumbledore leaned forward on his desk, his hands folded in front of him.

"Moira, because you did not actually harm Mr. Goyle, there will be no action against you.  However, I cannot help but think this has something to do with more than a simple hallway fight.  Remus has been gone for nearly three weeks.  We know Voldemort has him, though for what reason, we do not know.  And Goyle is the son of a known Death Eater."

"I am not a highly volatile person, Albus, as far as my work in concerned.  I promise you, it had nothing to do with his father."

"I believe you."

 "Thank you, sir."  He looked like he was done talking, so she asked the question which was on her mind.  "Professor, what happened?  Why were the Slytherins fighting amongst themselves?"

"That I do not know, though I'm sure Professor Snape will discover the reason."

"They will not tell me," came Snape's voice from behind her.  He entered the room and slid into the chair next to Moira.   "Which means it is either extremely serious, or extremely stupid."

"You don't know which?" she asked.

"No, I don't.  Perhaps I'll slip Veritaserum to one or two at mealtime."

"You can't do that, Professor.  They are students."

"No, Professor O'Shaughnessy, you seem to be confused.  I _shouldn't_ do that.  What I _can't_ do is throw a student against a wall and threaten him."  His voice was bitter, but amused.

"We've already spoken to that, Severus."  Dumbledore was not chiding, but merely meant to turn the conversation.  "Besides, he struck a teacher.  I will not have my staff abused."

"For which he is being severely punished," Snape assured.  "If nothing else, he will never live down being pinned by a woman half his size."

Moira sat silently for a moment, mulling over everything that had happened in her mind.  She played back everything she had seen: who had been fighting who, what was being yelled.

"Snape, tell me about Raiza Runyan's father."

"What do you need to know?"

"Death Eater?"

"Bottom feeder's more like it.  He's new, does grunt work, but yes, a Death Eater."

"She was fighting with Liza Maguire.  What about her father?"

"No.  Nor is her mother."

"What about Aramis Drayton?"

"No."

"Runyan, Goyle, Crabbe, Malfoy, Whorton."  She was speaking softly to herself.  "And Maguire and Drayton.  Hamilton is a no."

 "Moira, what?"

"A pattern," she answered.  "Slytherin Death Eaters versus Slytherin non-Death Eaters.  That's what the fight was.  Something's going on."

"What?"

"I don't know.  Something though.  I sent letters home to the parents of some of our Slytherin students, requesting that their children stay over the holidays to catch up on some work.  I made it sound as innocent as possible.  All the parents refused.  All were adamant.  Some even frantic."  

"So?"

"Mother hen is gathering her chicks.  She wants her children where they'll be safe.  Something's happening, Severus, and one of those parents knows what it is."

"And you think it involves Lupin somehow?"

"The timing all fits.  He's been out of the game for a long time.  He's not a threat.  The only use he would be to Voldemort is because of his lycanthropy.  The next full moon is over holiday break.  All Slytherin students are being brought to their parents.  You said there was dissension in the Death Eater ranks themselves.  Those who thought Voldemort was going too far."

"Attacking children," Albus said aloud, catching onto the thought.  "He's going to bring Remus back here."  


	24. Chapter 24

            "You loathe yourself, do you not?  You've hated yourself your entire life because of what you become when the moon is full.  I see that in you.  I see it in the lines about your eyes and in your graying hair.  Why?  Because they told you to.

            "They call you a Dark Creature, for that is what a werewolf is: a creature.  They do not see you as a man.  And they do not care how you act when you are human.  You are evil.  A monster to be hunted and cut down.  Come, Remus.  Tell me this is not true.  Tell me that you are trusted by others, even when you are werewolf.  Tell me your friends hold no fear in their hearts of what you are.  

"You are unsurprisingly silent.  No less than I expected.  You have allowed yourself to become a prisoner of your blood.  By trapping the beast inside you, you are destroying yourself.  I know you feel it.  It makes you hallow.  Empty.  A mere puppet in the lives everyone else lives.  You should embrace it, Remus.  Embrace who you are.  Embrace _what_ you are.  I can help you do that."

"Get away from me," Remus said hoarsely.   "I will not be one of your puppets."

"Puppet?  Remus, you disappoint me.  I've been protecting you from those who would do you harm, and you think I would make you a puppet?  Puppets are toys for children.  I will make you a man again."

"You will only make me a murderer."

A thin smile spread across the Dark Lord's lips.

"Like your dear, _Moira O'Shaughnessy_?  Yes, Wormtail has told me about her.  She, too, is a murderer.  She killed a dear friend of mine many years ago.  And just a few weeks ago, she tried to kill you."  He cocked his head.  "Don't you remember?"

"You're a liar."

"Am I?  Perhaps you need reminding?"  

Remus braced himself as Voldemort raised his wand and pointed it at him.  In a low voice, Voldemort whispered a few words, and images filled Remus' head.  He was in his own house.  Moira too.

_"Moira, leave!  Now!"_

_"No, Remus."_

_"Moira-"  He looked down at his hands.   His fingers were lengthening, hair thickening.  He could feel his body tearing and twisting, reshaping itself.  He cried in agony, his voice low, a growl._

_"Run!" he screamed._

_"No."  _

_Falling to his knees, Remus looked up at her.  She held a sword in her hands, the tip leveled at his throat._

_"I won't let you hurt anyone, Remus.  Even if I have to kill you."_

_"Moira?  MOIRA?  NO!"_

"Moira, no!  Gods, no!  Lies!  They're all lies!  Damn you, they're all lies!"

Voldemort smiled at the man rocking back and forth on the stone floor at his feet.  A fresh wave of cries filled the room as Voldemort crossed to the door and closed it firmly behind him.

"He's almost ready.  Has Wormtail returned?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"Excellent.  Summon our Potions Master."


	25. Chapter 25

Chapters 20-23 were tweaked and re-submitted.  If anything here doesn't make sense to you, you may want to go back and see what I did.  Happy reading!

            "Albus, I need a wand."  Moira's attention was squarely focused on Dumbledore as she came into the dungeon, where he had been covering Snape's classes for the past two days.  Though concerned about the Potions Master's extended absence, Dumbledore had remained calm about his summoning.  He had had to cover classes before because of Snape's other position.  Now, he looked curiously at his DADA professor, who had strode in purposefully.

            "For what, Moira?  Yours is damaged?"

            "For Sirius."

            "Ah," he said, stroking his beard.  "I see.  I suppose I can visit Ollivander.  When do you need it?"

            "Tonight.  I'm visiting some parents, and I need a little- back-up."

            "And I suppose this visit is not related to classroom behavior?"

            Moira smiled.  It was not a smile of humor, but of cunning.

            "Not exactly."

            "And you will not be visiting _officially_ as a professor of this school?" 

            "_Definitely _not."

            "No, I assumed not.  May I ask whom?"

            "Oliverio Runyan.  It is entirely a fact finding mission."  Her smile broadened, but this time, her eyes danced.

            "Say not more.  I shall have a wand before supper."

            "Excellent!  Thank you."  She turned to go, but stopped suddenly.  "Oh, and Albus, could you do me another favor?  Is it possible to disrupt the delivery of mail for the next few days?"

            He thought for a moment, absently twisting the tip of his beard around his thin fingers.  "It is only a few days until the Holiday.  Always a very busy time of the year.  Yes, it is entirely possible there will be a problem with mail delivery for a few days.  Any specific reason why?"

            "Just causing a little chaos."  She left the room.  Dumbledore couldn't help but smile at the hop in her step.  She had a plan, and she was enjoying herself immensely.

            When Albus found Moira after dinner, both she and Sirius were waiting in the Shrieking Shack, dressed entirely in black, including long cloaks, which hid every feature of their bodies.

            "When we get there, let me do all the talking," she was saying.  "Pretty much, you will just look impatient.  Do not say anything of make any movement unless I tell you to first.  Got it?"

            "Yes."  Sirius took the wand from Dumbledore and weighed it in his hand for a moment.  It had been a very long time since he had possessed one.  It wasn't exactly simple for him to walk into Ollivander's shop in Diagon Alley and pick one up.

            "He asked a few questions," Dumbledore said, seeing the questions on Sirius' face, "but I assured Elijah it was all right."

            "Thank you," was all Sirius could say.  "Thank you, Albus."

            "Are you ready, Sirius?"

            He nodded at Moira, and they disapparated. 

            They apparated in front of a large two-story house, which, though large in its own right, was dwarfed on either side by abodes twice its size.  Moira carefully crept around the house, inspecting windows and disarming CHARMS.  She was gone for several minutes before motioning to Sirius.

            "They're both in the den," she told him.  "As soon as we're in, disarm them first thing.  They may not even have their wands on them, being at home, but take no chances.  Are you ready?"

            Sirius nodded.

            "Trust me," she said, touching his cheek.  Then, she took a deep breath, stooping slightly to hide her height and her face.  Though Sirius could not see her, he could sense that she was changed.  Serious.  Dark.  Terrifying.  Her voice was low, cryptic.

            "Let's go."

            A moment later, they were in the room and Moira held the wands of both occupants in her hand.  The wife had turned for the door, but Moira thrust her hand out and a cold wind blew the doors shut.  In the silence of the room, the click of the locks was deafening.  

            "Oliverio Runyan, we need to talk."  

            "Who are you?  Aurors?  You can't just come in here-"

            "No, Mr. Runyan, not Aurors.  We do not have the same- constraints as they do, morally, of course.  And our methods of interrogation differ just a little."  She pointed her wand at him.  "Crucio."

            Sirius managed to constrain himself at what he saw.  She had told him, warned him she would use the curse to get Runyan's attention, but he had not been totally prepared to actually see her do it.  The ability to inflict such pain seemed to come from a darker side of her he had never seen before.

            "What do you want?"

            "I want to ask you a few questions about your boss."

            "Jonas Birely?"

            "Let me rephrase that:  I have a few questions about your Lord.  More specifically, a guest of his."

            "I don't know what you're talking about.  I have no lord."

            Moira advanced on him slowly, carefully.  She was very comfortable in this role.  Her voice was smooth, almost inviting when she wanted it to be, but most frightening at times.  She reached down, as if to stroke his hand.  Even Runyan watched as she gripped the middle two fingers of his hand, gently rubbing them with her fingers, then harshly pulling them backwards.  Sirius winced inwardly at the sickening snap of his bones.  The man began to scream, but it was muffled by Moira's hand over his mouth.

            "You see, I know many ways of inflicting pain.  Crucio?  It wears off.  After a few minutes, it's an unpleasant memory.  But this?"  She tapped his hand hard.  "This will stick with you for a while.  At least until we're done talking."

            "Bitch!"  

            "Mr. Runyan, I don't believe you understand the severity of your situation."

            "Severity?  I understand the severity.  You're going to kill me!"

            "Quite the contrary.  If you do not tell me what I want to know, I will allow you to live.  How do you think Lord Voldemort will react when he learns you were visited by myself concerning his whereabouts, and yet you were allowed to go free and practically unscathed?"

            "What are you talking about?"

            Moira's head turned suddenly toward the wife whose fingers had been inching toward a nearby vase.

            "Oh, Mrs. Runyan, you really shouldn't move over there unless you'd like to share your husband's pain… or increase it."

            "Damn it, Victoria, sit still!"

            "I see I have your undivided attention now."  She smiled.  "A man like Voldemort, I'm sure, has a certain knowledge about the way the world works."  Moira continued.  "Do you really believe he will take your word for it that you said nothing?  Would you like to bet your life on that?  No, I suppose you already have.  Would you like to bet your family's life on that: your wife, who by the way, is quite stunning, though between you and me, a bit insipid, or your charming little daughter? You know how he works.  He'll wipe out your entire seed for the information you've given me."

            "I haven't told you anything!"  Oliverio Runyan had gone pale, though whether it was from the pain in his hand or fear, Sirius was not sure.

            "It's all a matter of perception, Mr. Runyan. This very evening, he will learn that I paid you a visit.  Now you have to ask yourself, how well does he trust you?"

            "I'm a dead man, either way!"

            "Not so."  Sirius could see Moira's smile even beneath the hood of her cloak.  Definitely, she was in her element, and she enjoyed it immensely.  He was at the same time awed and terrified by her demeanor.  "He learns of our meeting only if I wish it.  None knows we're here but you and your wife, and I don't believe either of you are brainless enough to gloat about it.  Now, tell me about his guest."

            "Look, I don't know where he's keeping Snape, but I can find out!  You just need to give me time."

            Snape?  Snape was a prisoner as well?  If Moira was surprised by this, she did not show it.

            "How much time?"

            "Tomorrow!  Give me until tomorrow!"

            "Tomorrow?  If I give you until tomorrow, you'd better give me more than the location of one measly Death Eater.  There's a werewolf missing, Mr. Runyan.  I'm guessing your Dark Lord has him.  Where?"

            "I don't know."

            "Well, I'm bored already.  You've given me nothing."  She moved behind the Runyan's chair, and with her chin practically on his shoulder, looking straight at his wife, said, "Tell me, Mr. Runyan, would you still love your beautiful wife if were horribly scarred?  Of course you would.  It's all about personality, isn't it?"

            The woman cried out as Moira raised her wand in her direction.  Sirius tensed, not sure exactly what she was doing.  Oliverio Runyan thrust his hands into the air.

            "No!  No, please.  I swear to you, I will find out.  It will just take me a couple of hours.  I know who to talk to.  I- I just need time."

            "Somehow, I believe you.  I don't _trust_ you, but I believe you.  Here's what I'll do.  Until you give me the information I need, I will be keeping very close tabs on your daughter.  I believe she's at school at this moment?  Hogwarts, is it?  Yes, I thought so.  She will remain at the school under the watchful eyes of a very close friend of mine.  She will not leave until I am satisfied.  If you double-cross me, you and your wife will be spending the holidays alone.  Does that upset you, Oliverio?  You look ill.  Though I should caution you, there will be a full moon, and everyone knows, that's when the crazies come out."

            This phrase, however inane it seemed, had the desired effect.

            "I promise.  Gods, I promise.  Just- just don't hurt her!"

            "She's safe for now.  I will contact you in twelve hours.  You'd better have something for me."

            Moira nodded toward Sirius and they disapparated, first to Diagon Alley, and then to the Shrieking Shack, so their movement could not be tracked.  Enough people regularly disapparated from the alley, they could not be traced.  When they were safely within the shack, Moira removed the heavy cloak and fell to her knees.

            "Moira?"  Sirius was by her side instantly.

            "I'm fine," she said, waving him off.  "Just give me a moment."  The room was spinning and she was hot and cold at once.  Recognizing the feeling, she leaned forward, physically sick at what she had done.  Sirius' hands were on her back, rubbing in slow comforting circles as she vomited.  Her stomach empty, Sirius helped her lean back against a wall where she sat staring at the lines of the boards beneath her, clearing her mind.  It had been a very long time since she had played this part.  It required a mental toughness she doubted she had anymore.  Gods, she had broken that man's hand.  She had made threats on the lives of two innocent women, one of which she could not have gone back on.  Gods, what if he had not agreed to do as she asked?  Could she have cursed that woman?  She would have had to.  Innocent lives depended on it.

            And Snape?  Gods, they had Snape too?  They hadn't even realized he was a prisoner.  Had he been found out?  Tortured?  Was he even still alive?  Moira squeezed her eyes closed.  She was shaking, and it had to stop.  She had no time for weakness, certainly not emotional.

            Remus, where are you?             


	26. Chapter 26

            Snape sat in his squalid cell with his arms perched on his bent knees, listening to the sounds around him.  He could hear the pleading and screaming of a tortured soul not too far from him.

            "Moira!  Moira, no!  These are lies!  You're not real!  You're not-."  The cry was interrupted by a scream that chilled him to the core.  Even after the voice had died away, the pain echoed through the stone corridors and rooms, seeming to cling to the air.  It was the scream of both physical and mental torment.  

            Snape didn't have to be told to know what was happening.  He understood the nature of their captors.  He had participated in many of their methods and helped to develop more than a few.  They were torturing Lupin in the forms of those he trusted and loved most.  Last night, James.  Tonight, Moira.  Tomorrow?  Perhaps Sirius or Dumbledore.  They were trying to break him.  They _would_ break him. 

            Then, theoretically, the Imperious Curse would affect him even as he was a werewolf.  Destroy the man and control the animal.  It was both ingenious and terrifying.

            And now, Snape sat perhaps no more than a hundred feet from Remus Lupin, the man for whom they had been searching, and there was nothing he could do but sit and listen to the screaming, steeling his own soul against the bitter pain it induced within him.

            Soon, the screams ended, deteriorating into deep sobs.  Snape closed his eyes.  They were so close to destroying him.  Time was running short.  

            The click of the latch being drawn brought his attention to the door.  Voldemort entered, though Snape glanced Lucius Malfoy lurking in the corridor.

            "My lord," Snape said, bowing his head slightly.  

            "Severus, how are you enjoying your accommodations?"

            "To what do I owe the honor of these _accommodations_?"

            A low sound escaped Voldemort's throat, sending chills racing up and down Snape's spine.  He was laughing.

            "Severus, you were once the most promising of all my Death Eaters.  Intelligent, loyal, patient.  You did not adhere to our beliefs; you embodied them.  And yet, here you are, a prisoner in a dirty little cell.  Why do you think this happened?"

            "Karma," he answered dryly.

            The skin on the Dark Lord's smooth face stretched grotesquely, revealing his even white teeth.  A smile.

            Sirius helped from Moira from the ground, steadying her, and led her through the passageways, back out to fresh air, then toward the school.  Her legs were still shaky, but she seemed to be more under control with each step.  He brought her to a hidden entrance which led to the dungeon and turned to leave, but was stayed by Moira's hand on his arm.

            "Come inside.  Have a drink with me."

            "Are you sure?"

            "Yeah.  You look as pale as I feel.  We should probably talk about it."

            Sirius nodded and, pulling the hood of his cloak to fully hide his face, followed her into the school.

            "You've double-crossed me, Severus.  I've known it since Quirrell's demise.  You are serving Dumbledore.  I aught to kill you for that.  I _will_ kill you for that, but first, I want you to know that the downfall of the Hogwarts School, the death of its staff and so many promising students, is on your head."

            "I'm not the one killing innocent children," Snape answered bitterly.

            "There's no such thin gas innocent.  But as you said Severus, you're not the one doing it.  You're making it all possible.  You and your research."

            "My research?"

            "Your research.  But then, how could you have known that one day, your contributions to the Wolfsbane Potion would serve, with a few adjustments, to create the opposite effect in a patient _without_ waiting for the moon?  In twenty-four hours, your beloved school and your beloved headmaster will be no more.  And then, neither will you."

            Sirius awoke with a start, unsure what had woken him.  He was sitting in a chair before the dying fire in Moira's room where he had fallen asleep.  He stretched his limbs, and then turned his head from side to side, attempting to work out the cricks that had settled there.  A sound reached his ears and he froze, aware now that this was what had wakened him in the first place.  He turned and saw Moira curled up on the bed on top of her blankets and fully clothed.

            She was crying.

            "Moira?" he called softly.  In the light of the dying embers of the hearth, he could not tell if she was awake, though she had no reaction when he had called her name.  He rose from the chair and stepped silently toward the bed where he sat down beside her.  Again, she made no movement, though her cries had softened to a whimper.  Gently, he caressed her cheek, smoothing a lock of hair from her face.  For a moment, he was reminded of that long ago time when he often awoke to find her snuggled against him under heavy blankets.  And how, like now, he often found her crying in her sleep after the loss of her parents.  Bending down, he kissed her forehead softly.

            "Remus?" she sighed.

            Sirius' heart sank at the whisper of this name from the lips of the woman sleeping before him.

            "We'll find him," he whispered in answer.  "I promise, I'll bring him back to you."

            He stretched out on the bed beside her and wrapped his arms around her, comforting her as he always had before, but well aware that in her dreams, it was not his arms that she felt.  Or desired.     


	27. Chapter 27

            Sirius sat in Dumbledore's office, nervously biting his nails.  Moira had gone alone, despite both Sirius and Dumbledore's protests, to retrieve the information requested from Oliverio Runyan.  If he had been able to get the location of Snape and Remus, the two would be rescued that evening.  If not, arrangements had been made for those students who had signed up to stay over the holidays to be sent away with the others the next morning.  Sirius, himself, had okayed Harry to stay with the Weasleys.  Dumbledore had created a contingency plan for any students who had nowhere to go.  Tom, the landlord at the Leaky Cauldron had reserved several rooms for his use.  Everything was ready- so why couldn't he stay calm?  If any problems arose, they still had a week until the full moon.  There was plenty of time.

            Suddenly, the door banged open, and Dumbledore appeared, followed by a red-faced Moira.  She carried a very large roll of parchment, which she rolled out onto the desk.  Several more faces appeared in the room, professors, and huddled around the desk with Moira and Dumbledore in the center.

            "The Stronghold is located here," Moira said, pointing on the map.  "It's pretty much exactly as Snape described it.  The castle itself is rubble, but the subterranean levels are massive."  She turned the map around so it faced the surrounding crowd.

            "According to Runyan, Snape's being held here, in the second level beneath the castle.  He said someone else was down there too, under heavy guard.  My guess is, it's Remus, but he could not positively confirm that."

            "Do you trust this information?" Sirius asked.  Moira's eyes met his, then diverted themselves back toward the map.

            "He was in no position to lie to me."

            "We do not know what condition Severus or Remus are in," Dumbledore broke in, easing the heavy tension left by Moira's answer.  "We are not aware of the extent of any injuries they may have received.  However, we cannot send in an army.  Four of us will go: Moira and myself, Sirius, and Filius.  The rest of you will keep watch over the school.  Minerva, you will be in charge until we return."

            "Albus, do you think it wise for you to go?" McGonagall asked.

            "Minerva, this is the lions' den," he answered, motioning toward the map.  "I will not send others where I, myself, am not willing to go."

            McGonagall swallowed any further protests and nodded, as Moira and Dumbledore laid out their plan for the rescue.

            "You are a fool, Severus."  Lucius Malfoy leaned casually against the wall, staring down at the body sprawled on the floor in the middle of the cell.  Snape was laying on his back, his breathing quick and shallow while he recovered from his latest round of beatings.  "You've thrown your entire life away."

            "It is my life."

            "Is it?  Dumbledore has given you the freedoms you once enjoyed?  I'd rather understood you were under his rule, asking permission to come and go.  Aren't you at that school so he can keep an eye on you?"

            "If you're going to kill me, please do it now and spare me from having to listen to your voice."  He slowly sat up, touching his fingers to his bleeding lip.

            "Look at you.  You used to be so powerful, so respected."

            "There's a difference between respect and fear, Lucius.  Not that I expect you to understand."

            "Is that what you think you were getting at that school?  Respect?  It was a waste of your talents.  _You _are a waste of your talents.  And soon, you and that school will be destroyed."

            "Along with your own son."

            "Draco will be safe.  He knows what will happen."

            "Will he?  What did you do?  Send him a letter?"  Snape coughed.  "Tell me, Lucius, has he replied in any way?  Has anyone's child?  You're underestimating who you're up against."

            "Dumbledore wouldn't endanger my son."

            "No, he wouldn't.  But I wouldn't underestimate O'Shaughnessy.  It almost cost you your life the last time."

            "Are you trying to save your own life by telling me this?"

            "No.  The students' lives.  _Your son's_ _life_."  His ink eyes flashed up at Malfoy.  "Surely you know you are endangering him."

            Lucius stared down at him silently, as if considering what he was saying.  Very slowly, a smile spread across his lips.  

            "You really are a fool, Severus, if you think I will believe you."  He turned his head toward the door at the sound of approaching footsteps.  "But I must leave you now."  He opened the door, then turned back toward him.  "Sleep well."

            Just past his turned body, Snape spied a group of Death Eaters, one of whom carried the end of a thick chain.  At the end, a hooded figure was practically dragged behind.  The figure turned his head and looked into the cell as Lucius was leaving, meeting Snape's eyes for just a moment.  Snape gasped.  It was Remus.  And yet there was something terrifying in his eyes.  Anger.  Hatred.  Darkness.  Snape hung his head as the door slammed shut, leaving him in darkness.

            All was lost.  


	28. Chapter 28

            The small party apparated just outside the ruined walls of the abandoned castles.  Each was enveloped in a long black cloak, meant to blend in with shadows and the Death Eaters.  No faces could be seen as they silently made their way around the fortress, glancing up at the solitary walls that remained intact despite the battle with time and weather.  Moira motioned for the others to stop and knelt down where she was.  The large square stone at her feet hid the entrance to the labyrinth below.  In a low voice, she whispered the correct incantation, compliments of Oliverio Runyan, and the stone melted away, revealing a spiral staircase below.  One by one, they disappeared from sight into the chasm below.

            Rubeus Hagrid patrolled the outskirts of the school with Fang, his oversized mutt, by his side.  He stopped, readjusting his heavy coat to cover his massive body, protecting it better from the cold and falling snow.  Inside, the students were enjoying their last meal together before they would be placed on the train in the morning and sent home for holiday break.  None of them were aware of the dangers the school would face while they were gone, but the professors, himself included, he thought proudly, would see to it the school was still here when they returned.

            A low growl emanated from Fang's throat in the direction of the Forbidden Forest.  Hagrid raised his lantern and peered into the dark shadows beyond.  He never saw the spell that blasted him in the chest, knocking him unconscious in the snow.  Nor did he see the tall balding man who sent green sparks into the sky, signaling the way was clear.

            "There's no one here."  

            The ominous statement was made by Filius Flitwick.  They had covered the entire first level, finding traces of no one.

            "Runyan lied to you, Moira," Sirius said.

            "Shh.  Do you hear that?"

            "What?"

"Pounding.  It's coming from down that hallway." 

Harry Potter looked up at the faculty table where Professor McGonagall and a handful of professors were sitting.  McGonagall looked tense.  She hadn't eaten a thing, Harry noticed.  And there were four seats empty.  Hagrid, he knew, was outside with Fang.  He'd seen him through a window earlier.  Snape's seat had been empty for a few days.  Now Dumbledore and O'Shaughnessy were missing.  Harry's head was pounding.  Something was very wrong.

The boy stood up from his seat without saying a word to anyone.  As Hermione and Ron watched, wondering what was wrong with their friend, Harry approached the table, stopping in front of McGonagall.

"Is something wrong, Mr. Potter?"

"I wanted to talk to Professor O'Shaughnessy," he answered, watching her carefully.  "Do you know where she is?"

"The professor had to leave the school.  An emergency.  You may talk to her tomorrow."

"What about Professor Dumbledore?"

"Potter, I must insist-"

She never finished her sentence.  Harry gripped his head.  Pain shot from his forehead to his eyes, and seemed to run down his spine.  The main doors to the Great Hall exploded from their hinges, shooting pieces of wood over the students.  Several students cried out, while others pushed napkins against the gashes in their faces from the remnants of the door.  A crowd in black cloaks entered the room, surrounding the tables, wands out.

Death Eaters!

Everyone seemed to realize at once who had just entered the hall.  The screams were deafening.  Students who tried to escape were stunned.  McGonagall and the few teachers who were left were thrown back against the wall by invisible forces.  The room was in chaos, all save Harry, who was glued to the floor where he stood, for he was staring into the one face that terrified him beyond anything.

Voldemort.

"Silence, my children."  

The room grew silent almost instantly, save for a few whimpers or cries that were checked as soon as they fell.  

"I see that we've interrupted your meal.  Please, sit back down at your tables."  The Death Eaters raised their wands threateningly.  The students sat down stiffly, but no one touched their meals.  Ron glanced up toward Harry, who remained planted where he was.  He was frozen where he stood, seemingly lifeless, save for the wide green eyes, which remained locked on Voldemort, who was advancing slowly on him, speaking to the students as he did so.

"Where is dear Albus Dumbledore?  Run away, I presume, leaving mere children under the watchful eye of a frail old woman.  And who is this standing defiantly at the front of the room?  The boy who would be a hero?  Hello, Harry."  He reached out, laying his long bony fingers on Harry's shoulder.  White seared through the backs of his eyes.  The only sound he could hear was the echoing of his own screams.

"It's coming from the second level," Moira called, abandoning any need to lower her voice.  There was no one here to hear.  No one but whoever was downstairs where Remus and Snape were being kept.  She was running, taking the steps two at a time with Sirius directly behind her, and Albus and Filius no more than a step behind him.    The pounding stopped by the time they reached the level.  The only sound to be heard was the heavy breathing that had accompanied the run and the pounding of their hearts in their ears.  They stepped quietly, alert for any renewal of the noise.

Sirius, the tallest in the group, opened each slatted hole in each door, peering into the shadows to find their friends.  Another loud bang drew their attention to the door three down from where they stood.  Another bang and the door shook violently, but the hinges held.  Sirius opened the slat.

"It's Snape!"

Dumbledore directed his hand at the lock.

"Alohomora!"

The lock clicked and the old man tore the door open.  Snape stared, shocked, at the four people standing in the corridor.  The right side arm of his robes was torn up, revealing his bleeding shoulder and upper arm that he had repeatedly thrown against the door in an attempt to escape.

"What are you _doing_ here?"

"What does it look like?"  Moira answered.  "Where's Remus?"

"You shouldn't be here," was all he said, still in shock.  "The school-"

"Severus!  Where's Remus?" she yelled back.

"At the school, damn it!  They all are!"

"All?" Dumbledore asked.

"_Everyone!_" he shouted, racing past them and down the corridor.  His rescuers followed.  Everyone was at the school.  Death Eaters.  Remus.  _Voldemort._   

"Since Dumbledore cannot be found, I will leave him my calling card.  Harry, I'm sure you alone could deliver the message, but I think using all of you would have much more- impact, shall we say.  So, until he returns, we are going to play a little game.  I'm sure you are aware of the rules for Hide and Go Seek?  You will all run and hide, and he who is it will hunt you down.  And I've brought just the 'It' to really make this game interesting."   One of the Death Eaters yanked on a heavy chain, which was gripped in a shiny silver hand, pulling another cloaked figure down to his knees on the ground.  He caught himself with his hands before sitting up.  

"Remove your hood," Voldemort demanded.  The figure reached up.  Collective breaths were held as the hand gripped the fabric covering his head and lowered it, revealing his identity.  Somewhere at the Hufflepuff table, a lowly first year student let out a nervous laugh.  It was understandable.  The man was thin and pale.  In his present state, he looked quite unable to harm any of them, but the older students knew differently.  This was not the façade they feared, though those narrow amber eyes gazing menacingly at them did not help them relax in the least.

"Professor Lupin has learned a new trick since he was away, haven't you, my dear professor?"  The same Death Eater who had held Lupin's chain stepped forward and removed the iron manacles from his wrists.  He then removed a glass vial from his robes and, gripping Lupin's jaw with his silver hand, forced the liquid down his throat.  Lupin coughed and sputtered, fighting weakly against the liquid, but the deed was soon done. 

"I'm afraid it will take a moment until the big surprise, but until then, we have a few rules.  First, no wands."  On cue, wands were ripped from students' hands and robes by invisible hands and piled in the center of the room.  "Second, everyone gets to play."

Harry instinctively glanced over at the Slytherin table, which was now empty.  The students had been led out through a side door.  His eyes were drawn back toward Lupin whose muscles had begun to tense.  He was thrown forward onto the ground, his arms and body lengthening, hair thickening.  The change took place much faster than Harry had expected.  Or time had simply stood still.  Whatever, he was now facing a full-fledged werewolf.  The creature snarled and growled, stepping forward toward the nearby table of Ravenclaws.

"No, Remus.  Stay."  Voldemort commanded, holding his wand on the werewolf.  Lupin remained where he was, though he seemed to be fighting against the physical force that held him, trying to reach the nearby children.  

"Rule number three, nobody leaves the castle.  Alive.  I believe it is customary to count to ten?  One…"  The students remained frozen where they were.  "Two…"  

"RUN!"  The cry had emitted from Hermione's throat when she had jumped on top of the table.  "To the Towers!  Barricade the doors!"

"Three…"

En masse, the students leapt to their feet and streamed out the doors toward their towers.  They each only had one entrance.  It would be easiest to defend that single entrance with an entire house than to split up throughout the school. 

"Four…" 

The students raced through the hallways, splitting off at the staircase and heading to the towers.  The House ghosts were pushing them on, keeping an eye behind for the pursuing creature.

"FIVE!"  The voice echoed through the hallways as the students took the stairs two at a time.  Younger students were gripped by the hand and pulled.  The smaller ones were lifted and carried on the backs of the larger students.  It was a race for their lives.

"SIX!"  

A stairwell began to move before the entire Gryffindor House had left the last step.  Ron and Seamus were forced to jump to the landing before the staircase moved to far.  Ron's long legs propelled him easily to the landing.  Seamus caught it with his foot and slipped backwards, before Fred gripped his robe and pulled him forwards.

"Thanks," Seamus breathed, looking down at the drop that had nearly claimed him.

"SEVEN!"

"Keep running!" Fred yelled, pulling him with him.

"TEN!"

"He skipped!" cried Lavender.

"Keep moving!" Angelina told her, shoving her forward as an inhuman cry filled the air.  It was a howl and it seemed to fill the entire castle.

Dennis Creevly tripped on his robe within sight of the already open portrait.  Tears streamed his face as Harry gripped his hand and pulled him forward.

"Come on, Dennis!  We're almost there!"  He turned at the sound of paws thumping hard against the stone floors.  Lupin was bounding quickly toward them.  Dennis was frozen were he lay, his eyes also on the werewolf quickly closing the distance between them.  "Come on!" Harry yelled, pulling the boy to his feet and pushing him the last few yards to the portal.  They were barely inside when the portrait snapped closed behind.  Harry and Dennis had tumbled in a pile on the floor.  Shrieks of the fat lady echoed through the tower as Lupin attacked the portrait that separated him from the fresh meat beyond.

"Did everyone make it?" Hermione asked, standing on tiptoe and looking around her.  Students were huddled together, holding each other, crying.

"That's everyone," announced a prefect, finishing her count.

"Does anyone have a wand in here?  Anything we can use?  I don't think this door's going to hold him for very long."

Everyone jumped at the crack of splintering wood.  The door was thick, but Harry was right.  It would hold him for very long.    


	29. Chapter 29

            "What I don't understand," Flitwick protested as they lowered themselves one by one through the gaping hole in the floor of the Shrieking Shack, "is why they are here.  The lunar cycle-"

            "They have a potion," Snape broke in.  "A variation of the Wolfsbane Potion which causes the same reaction as the full moon.  Lupin is a werewolf _tonight_." 

            "By Merlin," Flitwick breathed as Moira dropped to the ground beside him.  "So at this moment-"

            "Remus is not Remus," Moira answered, lighting a flame in her hand and stepping over the roots growing through the floor of the passage with Flitwick directly behind her.  Within moments, they were standing ankle deep in snow just a few feet from the Whomping Willow.

            "We're too late!" Sirius gasped.

            The others followed his gaze to the sky over the castle where a green skull glittered faintly, a snake protruding from its mouth.  Without a word, Dumbledore hurried toward the school with Snape, Moira, Sirius, and Filius following closely behind.

            "Thesanus!" he cried, his step never slowing as he ran directly toward an outer wall.  A stone door sprang open just as he reached it, and slammed shut again just as the last in the party entered.

            Harry looked down at what his fellow Gryffindors had been able to scramble together as weapons.  The pile included a number of Filibusters, a handful of Canary Creams, three exploding quills, Ron's old broken wand, Harry's Invisibility Cloak, and a number of odds and ends that pretty much completed the pile of useless junk as far as stopping a werewolf was concerned. 

            "Couldn't someone sneak out in Harry's cloak and get help?" Lavender had asked.

            "No way," Hermione answered.  "Lupin would smell him in an instant and tear him apart."

            Harry cringed at the thought.  Somehow, just the mention of it gave him the feeling that he would be torn apart.  As he glanced around, he saw he was not the only one shivering.

            "Well, we can't just stay here and wait for him to get through that door," Ron said.  "And I don't plan on being dinner for a shaggy fleabag."

            "Ron, that's Professor Lupin!" Hermione protested.

            "No, Mione, that's a werewolf waiting to tear us limb from limb.  Professor Lupin ceased to exist as soon as that thing grew claws and teeth."

            "First things first," George broke in, "The youngest students should get up to the highest rooms.  That way, they're out of the way."

            "And the last one's he'll go after," Fred offered.  "First, second and third years."

            "Maybe they can make a rope out of the sheets and climb down from the window?" Neville offered, quietly.

            "It's too high," Angelina countered.  "Unless they use the sheets from _all _our beds and try a lower window."  She looked around the room.  "That might be our way out.  Start gathering sheets form the beds.  Then get into the lowest room and start putting together a ladder.  Tear them into strips if you have to. Just make sure the knots are tight."  A group of younger students ran off, splitting as they reached the stairs to forage for sheets.

            "The rest of us should start piling furniture on the door.  Barricade it.  I don't think it'll hold him, but it might buy us enough time to get out."  Harry looked around at his fellow students, surprised that few of them showed absolute fear.  He realized that he himself was too geared up for survival to allow himself to think too deeply on the possibilities for a short-lived future.  

            Tables were turned on their sides and pushed against the door.  Heavy chairs were pushed up behind it for added weight.  Just about anything that that could be moved was added for support.  It was, after all, their last and only line of defense.  As they stacked furniture, they heard the heavy door splintering.  Vicious snarls were echoing through the chamber, which suddenly felt very small.  There wasn't much time now.

            The passage brought them to a back entrance to the Great Hall.  Dumbledore reached for the door, but Moira waved him off and pressed her ear against the door.  Hearing nothing on the other side, she pointed her wand and whispered a few words.  The door exploded from its hinges.  From the shattered doorframe, they were filled with horror.  The staff that had been left behind was lying very still on the floor behind the faculty table.  Dumbledore raced instantly to McGonagall who lay on her side, a thin line of blood trickling from her brow.  

            "Enervate," he said, pointing his wand at her.  Her eyes whipped open.

            "Voldemort!" she gasped.

            "Are you all right?" he asked.

            "Death Eaters!  In the school!"

            "Minerva, are you injured?"

            "They're here, Albus.  We must help the children!"  She gripped his robes as he helped her to her feet.

            "Where are the students?" Moira asked.  "Where is Remus?"

            "I don't know."

            An inhuman cry filled the school.  Remus was howling.

            "He's under the Imperious Curse," Snape announced gravely, "and I know who Voldemort sent him after."

            "Harry."  Sirius and Moira both said the name in unison.  They turned and ran down the length of the room, vaulting tables, and disappeared through the main doors.

            "Albus, Minerva, wake the rest of the staff and search the school for the rest of the students or any Death Eaters," Snape told them.  "We'll find Lupin."

            "We've got it!" Dennis yelled down the spiral staircase.  "It almost reaches the ground!"

            "Tie it to something heavy!" Angelina yelled back up.  "Then, get out!"

            Dennis ran back up the stairs.  George and Fred were issuing orders on where furniture needed to be moved and the barricade reinforced.  They began sending students up to the chamber to climb out the window with the younger ones.  Finally, with only a handful left, the structure began to move.  The werewolf was through the door and pushing on the barricade, trying to reach the students.

            "Run!  Everyone upstairs!" Fred yelled.  The last of the Gryffindors turned on their heels and ran as fast as they could up the stairs.  The barricade was tumbling down behind them.  They didn't have to turn to know the werewolf was in the Common Room.

            "Gryffindor Tower!" Moira yelled, grabbing Sirius by the arm.

            "How do you know?"

            "I can see his claw marks on the floor.  He went up."

            "Then that's where we're going."  

            A dozen students were still in the bedchamber when the door was bolted.  It alone separated them from prolonged pain and certain death.  The beds and armoires were too heavy to push, and the nightstands would add no strength.  Quickly, students were slipping out the window onto the ledge to shimmy down a makeshift ladder the hundred feet or so to the ground with frozen fingers and fears of falling or being torn apart.  Much too soon, Harry heard the door begin to crack and turned in time to see a claw shoot through the wood. 

            Moira could hear the screams of terror as they reached portrait that protected the entrance to the Tower.  It was torn to pieces, it's frame hanging miserably from the wall.  The fat lady had escaped to another picture.  The entrance had been blocked by all the furniture in the Common Room.  With a blast of their wands, the path was clear.  They followed the screams up the winding staircase on the girls' side and found the first door destroyed.  Inside, a full-grown werewolf was swiping wildly at a handful of students who were sliding between and under beds to escape his claws.

            As soon as they entered, Remus knew they were there.  He sniffed and looked back at them, dodging an attempt to stun him, as if he knew it was coming.  

            "Out!" Snape ordered, and the students too happily obeyed, running for the shattered door as soon as Remus attention was turned from them.  However, as Harry slipped behind Snape and through the door, Remus leapt, knocking Snape to the floor, his great claws tearing through the flesh of his arms, before bounding down the stairs for the students again.  At a full run, Sirius transformed into a great black dog, never missing a step.  Moira followed after with Snape close behind.

            The students hadn't quite made it to the exit before Remus stopped them.  Angelina was lying against the wall, her right hand clasping her left upper arm as blood seeped out between her fingers.  Fred stood protectively over her holding a heavy chair leg in his hands, ready to swing it if the werewolf returned to her.  Sirius, who had backed it against the wall, however, preoccupied it.  Remus growled low before leaping forward.  Sirius leapt at the same instant, clamping his canine teeth into the thick hide of Remus' shoulder.  Remus swung a claw, catching Sirius in the ribs, knocking him across the room.  Free, Remus bound toward Harry, who was pulling a fallen Hermione up from the ground.  Moira flung a stun spell at him, narrowly missing..  

            She ran up to him, and as soon as she entered his peripheral vision, Remus hesitated, as if torn between attacking her or Harry.  Moira took advantage of the hesitation as Snape snuck up from the rear.

            "Come on, Remus," she muttered.  "Come after me.  Leave the boy alone."  She backed away.  Remus followed her step by step, his eyes never leaving her.  Too late, she realized she had backed against a wall.

Remus swiped at her as she darted away from the wall, his claws tearing through robe and flesh, whipping her wand across the room.  She fell back against the wall again, blood pouring out of her wound.  She sunk to the ground, dazed for a moment, then lurched forward to retrieve her wand.  A student's high pitched scream caused her to whip her head around in time to see Snape thrown against the fireplace to land hard among a group of students.  Sirius stood between them, trying to push Remus away.  Another swipe caught Sirius low, sending him skidding across the floor until the stone wall stopped him.

"Stupefy!" she cried, but Remus had moved more quickly, darting behind her.  She turned in time to see another claw flying toward her face.  She darted sideways, catching the razor tip along her cheek and fell over debris near the entrance, snapping her wand.  Remus was moving toward the children.  She spied a suit of armor in the corridor just outside the ruined portrait.  She snatched the sword from the armor's hand and rushed to cut him off.  The children were huddled together against the wall and Remus stepped closer.  Moira dropped and rolled across the floor, avoiding another claw, and then leveled the sword at Remus.

"You won't touch them, Remus."

A low growl emitted from his throat.  A claw shot out at her, but she caught it with the blade, drawing blood on his arm.  He cried out; then stepped closer.

Moira leveled the sword once more.

"Fight it, Remus.  It's just a spell.  Fight it!"

The growl continued.  Another claw shot out, but she was ready.  Moira evaded the blow, then sunk the tip of the blade into his wrist, hoping to wound him enough to draw back, not to seriously injure him.  He drew back hurriedly.

"You won't hurt these children, Remus.  I won't let you."

He lurched sideways, his claw gripping Harry and jerking him toward his gaping mouth.  Moira dropped her shoulder and rammed it into Remus' chest.  It knocked him to the ground, but did not break his grip.  Harry was screaming, his arm pulled from its socket.  She dropped her foot hard on Remus' injured wrist, breaking the grip.  Several students pulled Harry back into the safety of their huddle, amid Remus' furious screams.

"It's the Imperious Curse, Remus!  You know how to break it!  Fight it!  Don't listen to the voice in your head!"

He climbed to his feet, his eyes aglow with rage.  Slowly, he paced back and forth before her, his eyes locked on her.  Behind her, Moira could hear Snape stirring.  Sirius was trying to stand, but stumbled to the ground.  From the corner of her eye, she saw him change back into his human form, his leg lying awkwardly behind him, broken.

Moira adjusted the sword in her hands.  It was getting harder to hold with her injured arm.  Black spots were dancing before her eyes.  Remus continued to snarl at her as he paced.  Moira was listening for Snape to fully awaken.

            "Where's my wand?"  His voice was shaky.  

            "Behind Remus," she told him, her eyes still trained on the werewolf.  Remus stopped and got down in a pouncing position.  He roared loudly.  The students screamed.

            "Don't do this, Remus.  Don't make me hurt you."  If he lunged at her, they would both fall back into the students.  She knew she couldn't let that happen, even if it was Remus.  "Please, Remus," she pleaded, shaking her head slowly, "don't make me."

            His muscles tensed.  His eyes narrowed.  Suddenly, he shot forward, claws flailing, mouth stretched wide revealing his dagger teeth.

            "Moira!" Sirius screamed.

            Moira braced herself behind the sword, her eyes shut tightly.  The hilt of the sword jabbed her hard in the chest, but she held her ground.  The cry of a wounded animal and the weight on the sword told her she had stopped him.  Sirius yelled something she could not make out.  She heard the gasps of the students, then nothing.  Opening her eyes slowly, she saw Remus' wide amber eyes, his human eyes, staring back at her.

            "Oh, gods," she gasped.

            Remus Lupin fell to his knees, blood seeping down his stomach where her sword had been.

            "Moira?"  The word was a whisper as it fell from his lips.  His eyes were trained on her, beseeching, as if he had met the ultimate betrayal.  He collapsed to the ground.

            The clamor of the sword echoed loudly as she dropped it and rushed to his side.

            "Remus?  Remus, hold on!"  She cried, pressing her hands against the gaping wound.  Tears streamed down her cheeks.  "Hold on, Remus!"  Snape had staggered over to them and pressed his own hand over Remus' wound.

            "Finnegan!  Get me my wand!"

            Remus was shivering.  She wrapped her arms around him, cradling his head in her lap.  His eyelids drooped.

            "Seamus!  Now!" Snape growled beside her.

            "No, Remus.  Don't close your eyes.  Please don't.  Don't give up.  Please!" she pleaded.  "You can't leave me, Remus.  You have to fight.  I love you.  I love you.  Don't leave."  She touched his cheek.  His eyes trained on her for a long moment, then closed.  "No.  No, Remus.  No!"  She wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his hair.  "I love you.  I'm so sorry.  I love you."

            She was unaware how long she remained like that, whispering apologies and sentiments into his deafened ears until Hermione Granger touched her shoulder.

            "Professor O'Shaughnessy?"  

            Moira kissed Remus and wiped the tears from her eyes.  She realized her shaking hands were covered with his blood.  Remus' blood.  She balled her hands into fists, clenching them until the shaking stopped.  Rage coursed through her body, calming her to its submission.

            "Help Harry and Sirius," she told Hermione.

            "Where are you going?" Snape asked as she stood and strode across the room.

            "To find whoever did this."

            "Moira!  No!"  It was Sirius this time, but he couldn't stop her with a broken leg.  Nor could Snape who was hurriedly trying to help Remus.  


	30. Chapter 30

Nobody could have stopped Moira as she walked calmly through the twisting corridors to the large oak doors of the Great Hall.  They slammed open when she pushed them.  On the front table sat the pile of wands, which had been taken from the students.  She chose one and slid it up her sleeve.  She turned and, from the corner of her eye, saw a figure slinking in the shadows.  She found herself face to face with Peter Pettigrew.

            "Moira O'Shaughnessy.  How are you?" he asked casually

            "It's been a rough day, Peter."  She smiled.  Her voice was even, calculated.  If he noticed, he did not show.  "How about you?"

            "It hasn't turned out too badly.  It definitely beats being a rat."

            "You mean you're not anymore?"

            His face reddened.

            "I may be a rat, but I'm a powerful rat."

            "You're going to be a dead rat."

            "I wouldn't be too sure."  He threw a punch with his steel fist, but Moira spun to the left and gripped his wrist, twisting it back toward her.  She shoved his shoulder down, breaking his elbow on her knee.

            "Don't try to fight me like a man.  That's a higher species than you'll ever reach."

            "Bitch!" he spat through clenched teeth, cradling his arm.

            "You're supposed to be a wizard, Peter.  Or are you happy being a rodent?"  Another smile spread across her face.  She slid the wand from her sleeve and tapped it on her hand as she slowly circled him.

            "You've caused a lot of pain in my life, Peter," she said.  "You caused Lily and James' deaths.  You took the man I loved away from me, made me believe he was a murderer, and ruined my perfect wedding.  Of course, I didn't know it was you at the time, but that doesn't make it okay."  He turned slowly, watching her as she circled.  "You tried to kill Harry twice.  You helped bring back Voldemort."  She stopped and looked at him.  "Take your wand out, Peter.  I wouldn't want to kill an unarmed man."

            "You won't kill me."

            "Crucio!"  He fell to the ground and she stared down at him as he writhed in pain, screaming.  She broke the spell after just a few seconds.  "Don't bet on that."

            Dumbledore and McGonagall ran into the Gryffindor Common Room.  Snape was leaning over Remus Lupin, who was bleeding badly.  It covered Snape's hands as he tried to stop it.  Several students were huddled at the far end of the room, deathly quiet except for an occasional whimper or sob.  Hermoine, Ron, and Harry were with Sirius a few feet away.

            "Severus, what happened?" Dumbledore demanded as he knelt next to him and began helping.

            "Remus was under the Imperious Curse.  He was going after the children.  Moira stopped him."

            Dumbledore eyed the sword on the ground.

            "Minerva, go find Poppy.  Hurry!"  When McGonagall disappeared from the room, he asked, "Where is Moira now?"

            "Looking for someone to kill," he answered gravely.

            "I'll take care of Remus.  Go find her."

            Snape rose and hurried from the room.

            "You used an Unforgiveable Curse on me!" Peter screamed.

            "There are three.  One down, two to go.  Take out your wand, Peter."

            He just stared defiantly back.

            "You grew a backbone.  The timing's all wrong.  Especially since your precious Death Eaters left you here to be captured or killed."  Peter said nothing, made no movement.  "All right.  I can wait."  She continued circling him.  "Where was I?" she asked, feigning thought.  "Ah yes, reasons you deserve to die.  You helped kidnap Remus.  That was enough to really piss me off, but then you led a bunch of Death Eaters to Hogwarts."  A chuckle escaped her throat.  "Not only that, but Remus was brought under the Imperious Curse.  I know you didn't do that, Peter.  You're too weak for that kind of magic.  But I blame you.  I do."   A quick movement told her Peter had whipped out his wand.

            "Imperio!"  she yelled.  He turned his wand on himself, his eyes wide with fear.  "What curse were you going to use on me, Peter?"

            "None," he gasped.  "I- I wasn't-"

            "I don't believe you.  That's what happens when you betray your friends.  They stop believing you."  She stared down at him, hatred dancing in her eyes.  "Say the spell, Peter," she told him, flicking her wand.

            "Cru- crucio!" 

            Again, he fell to the ground screaming.  His cries echoed through the school as he spasmed on the floor.  They stopped after a few more seconds when he dropped his wand.

            Snape ran down the hallway, screaming Moira's name.  She wasn't answering.  He continued on, searching the many twists and bends of the school.  A scream echoed, lasting for some time, then died.  It wasn't Moira, but it was coming from near the entrance.  The Great Hall.

            "That's two down, Peter.  You know which one is left."

            "You won't-"

"Quiet, old friend.  I want you to listen right now."

            He snarled something under his breath.

            "What was that, Peter?  I didn't hear you.  You know, I don't allow my students to talk back."  She flicked her wand and sent him crashing into the wall.  "Remus could have killed people.  He nearly did.  People he cares about.  Innocent people."  She advanced on him as she spoke.

            "He- he didn't?"

            "No.  Sirius and Severus are hurt.  So are Harry and a few other students.  Does that make you happy?"  She flicked her wand again and sent him flying through the air, crashing into the opposite wall.  "He's dead because of you.  This is the second time you've taken the man I love from me.  I don't think I can forgive that."

            "The man you love?  Dead?"

            "Yes.  And I'm really not happy."  She gripped his collar and stood him on his feet.  "I change my mind about the last curse."  Her voice was low and venomous.  "I think I'd like to kill you with my hands.  It's slower, but also much more painful for you."  She slammed him hard against the wall.  He started laughing.

            "I didn't kill Remus."  He smiled coldly.  "You did, didn't you?  That's why you want to kill me.  Because you had to kill Remus."

            She threw him over a table.

            "Yet another reason I'm going to kill you."  In two quick bounds, she was over the table with her knee planted in his sternum and her hands closed around his throat.

            "No!  No!  I didn't do it!  Moira-"

            "No, Peter.  I've had enough of you.  You will never hurt anyone again."  She began squeezing.  He gasped and tried to fight her with his good arm, but she was stronger, fueled by hatred.  His fight was weakening when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

            "Moira, don't do this."  Snape was looking at her sadly.

            "I have to, Severus.  He did all of this.  He-"  Tears steamed on her hot cheeks.  "He killed all of them."

            "Then you will be no better than he is.  No more than a murderer.  And a coward."

            "I can live with that."

            He reached down and pulled up her sleeve with his bloody hand, revealing her scarred hand and arm, covered too in Remus' blood   "Can you?  Can you live with it?"  He kneeled beside her so he was looking into her eyes.  "You're not a murderer, Moira.  Don't make yourself into one.  Believe me, it doesn't make anything any easier."

            "But Remus-"

            "Is alive.  Albus and Poppy are helping him now.  You don't have to do this."

            Moira loosened her grip, and Peter lay before her gasping for breath.

            "I knew you couldn't do it," he gasped.  "I knew-"

"Stupify!" Snape stared with disgust at the little man lying in front of him.  Moira climbed off of his unconscious body and collapsed against Snape's chest, sobbing.  Stunned for a moment, he closed his arms around her.  "It's all right, Moira.  Everything's all right now."

Sirius limped through the entrance hall and slipped quietly into the rose garden.  The sun was rising, bathing the dormant garden in faintly pink light.  He followed the winding path until he came across Moira.  She was sitting on a carved bench, her back to him.  A full cup of tea sat beside her. 

            "He's dead, isn't he, Sirius?" she asked faintly, staring vacantly at the blushing morning sky.

            "No, he isn't."  He moved her tea, noticing it was ice cold, and sat beside her on the bench, noting the blood dried about her garments.  Her arm and face had gone unattended, though they no longer continued to bleed.  "Have you been out here all night, Moira?"

            "Most of it."

            "Why don't you come up to the Hospital Wing and get these cuts taken care of?"

            "How's your leg, Sirius?" she asked, changing the subject.

            "Better.  Stiff, but better."

            "Good.  And the students?"

            "Scared, but healthy.  Harry's arm is back in its joint.  Most of the injuries were cuts and bruises, but nothing too serious."

            "Good," she answered, her eyes still staring blankly toward the sky.  "They were climbing out the window," she told him.  "Most of the younger kids had gotten away, hiding in Hagrid's cabin.  They had even found poor Hagrid unconscious in the snow and dragged him inside."  She was silent for a moment, then added absently, "They're good kids.  True Gryffindors.  Brave in the face of the greatest dangers."

            "What's going on, Moira?"

            "I almost killed two men last night, Sirius."

            "Up until this morning, I had killed thirteen people," he countered.  "That doesn't make either of us murderers."

            Moira looked at him for the first time since he had joined her.

            "The Ministry has Peter?"

            "They do," he nodded.  "And about two hours ago, he confessed what he did under a truth potion."

            "You heard it?"

            "No.  I was still in a hospital bed, but Snape did."

            "I'm glad for you, Sirius.  I really am."  A small smile touched her lips before disappearing.  Her eyes fell back to the sky.  He followed her gaze to where the moon still sat faintly in the sky.

             "He wants to see you, you know."

            "Is he awake?"

            "No, but he'll know you're there."

            "What makes you think he'll want to see me?  I nearly killed him."

            "Moira, Remus knows what he is.  He knows how dangerous he can be.  I'm sure he has no illusions about what was happening.  You stopped him from doing a horrible thing.  You stopped him from killing."

            "I almost stopped him from living."

            "And he would agree you made the right choice.  He could never have lived with what he would have done.  Especially if he would have killed you or Harry."

            "When I realized what I'd done, I wished he did kill me."  She looked down at her hands.  "I still have his blood under my nails."

            Her old friend regarded her quietly.  Slowly, he reached up and pulled her chin so she was facing him.  Tears threatened to stream down her face.

"You really love him, don't you?"

            "I do.  I really do."

            They both sat in silence as the sun rose higher and higher in the sky.  Birds began chirping around them.

"How did we get here?" Sirius asked

"The long scenic route.  Lots of twists."

"I'm not sure I know which was harder."

"I'm sorry, Sirius.  About all of this."

"Don't be.  There are much worse ways this could have ended."

"And a lot happier." 

"No.  You never would have been happy.  And knowing that, neither would I.  And Remus-"

"You don't blame him?"

"Blame him?  How can I blame him for loving you?  I'm happy for him.  For you both."  The weak smile on his lips could not hide the difficulty in saying those words.

"Thank you," she told him, taking his hand in hers.  "You know I still love you, right?"

"I waited years to hear you say that.  Just not with the meaning I know is there."  He patted her hand.  "But I understand."  They sat quietly for a moment.  "Go to the Hospital Wing so Madame Pomfrey can see to your wounds.  And while you're there, talk to Remus.  I think he needs you right now."


	31. Chapter 31

Moira's legs carried her to the Hospital Wing where several students were having small wounds tended, and McGonagall and Dumbledore were cheering and comforting the younger ones who weren't really injured, but just felt they wanted to be near someone they could trust.  A few called out her name as she passed by them, including Harry, who was laid up in a white sheeted bed, but she continued walking as if she didn't hear.

"Professor O'Shaughnessy," Madame Pomfrey exclaimed.  "It's about time you came.  Come, let me take a look at those injuries.  Professor?"

Moira walked continued walking, her eyes locked on the large screens at a quiet corner of the room which hid the bed where she knew Remus was lying.

"Professor?"  Pomfrey reached out to take O'Shaughnessy's wrist, but was stopped by Dumbledore's light touch.

"Give her a few minutes, Poppy."

"Albus, Lupin needs to rest, and O'Shaughnessy has some nasty cuts-"

"Which can be taken care of in a few minutes."  He shot Harry a conspirative wink.  "Though, I do believe I just heard young Mr. Potter complaining of pains in his shoulder."

Harry, catching onto the hint, gripped his shoulder and moaned.

"He shouldn't," Pomfrey muttered, but went directly to his side to examine the well-healed joint.

But Moira neither saw nor heard any of this.  Her long, thin fingers gripped the side of the screen, and she pulled it toward her just enough that she could slip around it.  Her feet froze to the ground.

Remus lay very still in the bed before her.  His body was bare from the waist up, but for the bandages around a forearm and wrist, and the heavy wrappings about his torso.  His skin was pale, clammy to the touch, she realized.  But it was his face which allowed dread to enter her heart.  His cheeks held no color, certainly not against the drastic contrast of his deep brown hair splayed across the pillow beneath his head.  The pallor, the dried perspiration, the eyes that remained shut, neither fluttering in dream, nor blinking in wakefulness- the appearance of death was about him.  Only the slow, rhythmic rise and fall of his chest gave her hope.

Gently, she gripped his hand, raising his fingers to her lips.

"I'm sorry, Remus," she whispered, holding the back of his hand against her cheek.  "I'm so sorry."  She waited, her eyes never blinking as she watched his face carefully, looking for the slightest movement in his eyes.  None came.  It was as if he did not even know she was there.

What had she expected?  A fairy tale?  Did she expect him to awaken when she came to him?  Remus had been right.  There is no such thing as a fairy tale.

Moira was not aware how long she had sat beside Remus until she felt Dumbledore's hand on her shoulder.

"Come, Moira.  Poppy should see to your wounds."

"I don't want to leave him, Albus.  I need to be here when he wakes up.  I need him to know- I need him to know-."  The words could not come.  They were choked by her own fears that Remus would never hear them.

"That you love him?  He knows Moira.  He knows."

"How can you know that?  How can you be sure?"

"He's fighting to stay alive.  He wishes to come back to you.  Don' t you know that?"

"But how can your really know, Albus?"

The old Headmaster sighed.

"I have seen enough men and women fight for their lives and enough go quietly to death to recognize it.  Those who know they have someone here who loves them fight the hardest.  Remus is fighting harder than any I have ever seen.  He will come back to you."

Moira did not move.

"Come, Moira.  When he wakes, let not the first thing he sees be the blood he drew on your face.  He has too much pain already for that."   As he led her away from the hospital bed, Dumbledore threw a furtive glance back at Remus and hoped deeply that his words of comfort held truth.  Snape had told him much of what had happened to Remus during his captivity, and the old man silently prayed that none of the damage would be permanent.


	32. Chapter 32

Moira dashed through the nearly empty corridors of Hogwarts as quickly as her feet would carry her.  Harry had appeared in her classroom only moments ago to tell her the news.

            "Professor, he's awake.  I was just in the Hospital Wing and I heard Professor Lupin talking."

            She hadn't even thanked the boy for telling her.  It didn't matter.  She was sure he'd understood.  He had apologized to her enough over the last few days for the way he had treated her.  He and half the school now knew how she felt about their former professor.

            Her pace slowed as she neared the Hospital Wing.  Sirius was sitting on the floor of the corridor, his knees drawn up and his head in his hands.  He lifted his head when he heard her near.  His eyes were red.  He'd been crying.

            "Don't go in, Moira," he told her as her hand reached out to the door.

            "Why not?"

            "Just don't.  It's better not to."

            "Why?  What happened?"

            "He's not the same.  That's- not the same Remus."

            "What do you mean?  Sirius, what happened?"  She stepped closer, but did not take her hand from the door.

            "I was in there when he woke up.  I was right by his side.  The way he looked at me… he knew me, but there was something in his eyes I've never seen before in him.  Revulsion.  Contempt.   If he'd have had the strength, I honestly think he would have killed me."   

            "Is he alone?"

            "No.  Albus and Snape are in there now."

            Moira looked at the door, as if contemplating it.

            "Don't do this to yourself, Moira."

            She pushed the door open and entered, closing it softly behind her.  The large room was empty.  All the beds were dressed in crisp white sheets, folded down at the head and crowned with a pillow.  Whispers swirled about the room as she stepped quietly toward the screens, which cut the end of the room off from the door.  Two shadows could be seen: Albus and Severus.

            "They were lies, Remus.  Everything he told you were lies."

            "No, I saw them.  I saw everything!  I remember!  Those are not lies!"

            "They are not memories-"

            "Yes, they are, Severus.  Don't tell me the things in my head aren't real.  Sirius and Moira.  They gave me to them!"

            "Remus-"

            "No, Albus.  If I see them again, I'll kill them."

            A small sound escaped Moira's throat before she could stop it.  She couldn't believe what she was hearing.  Remus?  Thought she had given him up to Voldemort?  The room was spinning.  She grabbed the edge of a bed to steady herself.  Snape's shadow turned at the sound and slipped from behind the screen.  When he saw Moira, he pressed his finger to his lips, motioning for her to remain silent as he came toward her.  He ushered her quickly into Pomfrey's nearby office and shut the door.

            "You should not have come in here, Moira," he told her when the door was safely shut.

            "What happened to him, Severus?  What's wrong with him?"  She collapsed into a chair.

            "Moira, Remus is still not well.  Not his body.  His mind.  He was under a great amount of stress in which he was abused both physically and mentally, then fed information, memories, to support an alternate reality for him.  They meant to break his hold on reality. Make him more pliable under the Imperious Curse.  And now, he can't tell between what was real and what was not."

            "Brainwashing."

            "Very advanced brainwashing.  He believes what they wanted him to believe.  He believes that you and Sirius and James Potter were using him.  That you distrusted him.  And that you, in particular, tried to kill him."

            "But how can he- how can he believe that?"

            "Very simply.  It's the difference between what you see, or think you see, and what people are telling you."

            Moira took this, pushing it around her mind, unable to find any answers.

            "Can I see him?  If I can talk to him for just a few minutes-"

            "No, Moira.  Nothing you can say will change him."

            "But, just a few-"

            "Did you see Sirius when you came in?" he yelled.  "He wasn't with Remus for two minutes when he woke up.  He's probably still sitting out in the hallway."  He lowered his voice.  "You didn't hear the things Remus was saying.  I did.  Quite frankly, if I was his best friend and heard the things he said, I'd be sitting out in that hallway crying too.  This is not the same person you knew before.  There's a chance he never will be again."

            "Never?"  Her throat was tightening.  Tears threatened to fall.

            "Moira."  He kneeled beside her, taking her hand.  "Albus is sending him to St Mungo's tomorrow."

            "But, he just woke up.  He can't just institutionalize him!"

            "Albus has a good friend there who is going to try and help Remus.  We suspected this might happen before he even woke up and made the necessary arrangements.  You cannot see him before he goes."

            "But what if he never gets better?"

            "I'm sorry, Moira."    

            The remainder of the day passed slowly for Moira.  She found she could hardly concentrate on anything for more than a few minutes.  Sirius remained at the school to help distract her, though he seemed to need a distraction just as much.  He was uncharacteristically quiet throughout the passing hours, and hardly spoke at all during dinner.  Though Dumbledore did not appear at mealtime, Snape joined the rest of the staff at the table.  Conversation was muted, as if they were joining together for a wake.

            A hand touched her gently on the shoulder and Snape whispered into her ear, "Moira, try to eat something."  She looked down at her plate.  She hadn't realized she hadn't eaten.

            "I will," she answered, glancing back at the drawn white face and ink black eyes.  He looked tired, as if he hadn't slept in several days.  He was worried and sad.  And the air of guilt pervaded his aura. 

            Later that night, her body fought her mind's commands to sleep.  Slowly, Remus' words crept into her brain.

            _If I see them again, I'll kill them._

            She glanced at the clock.  It was nearly 4am.  Surely, no one would still be awake.  She wrapped a robe over her nightgown and slipped out of her room, tiptoeing quietly to the Hospital Wing.  If nothing else, she would at least be able to see him without him ever knowing.  She made it all the way to the door before hearing another sound.  It was not a sound she was comforted by.

            "Moira, you cannot go in there."

            Snape.  He was walking quickly down the corridor, just a few feet behind her.  His steps made even less sound than hers.

            "I just- I wanted to say goodbye.  Surely he's sleeping.  He'd never know I was here."

            "He isn't sleeping, Moira.  He's with Doctor Saluria.  She's getting ready to take him to the institution."

            "So soon?"

            "There was a hope we could do it while the school was sleeping."  There was more to it.  She could see it in his eyes.  They were cold, as they were whenever he withheld information.

            They hoped to move him while _she_ was sleeping.

            "Severus, I just want to see him.  I can wait out here.  He would never even know I was here.  I just need to see-"

            The door swung open and Snape pulled Moira into an alcove near the door.  Dumbledore and Doctor Saluria walked out together, followed by a cloaked figure flanked by two nurses.  It was Remus.  Moira knew it without seeing his face as she peeked out around the stone corner.  She didn't need to see his face.

            And then, something totally unexpected happened.  As if he too could sense her in the recessed niche, his head turned very slowly.   Nurse spoke to him gently, but it seemed to have no effect.  He turned nearly all the way around until he was looking directly into her eyes.

            She was chilled by it.  His amber eyes, which had never succeeded in veiling his emotions well, were icy.  He simply held her gaze, making no sign of acknowledgement.  Minutes seemed to pass with no movement.  The doctor, sensing that Remus had stopped walking, turned and looked curiously at Remus, then at Moira's two wide eyes staring out from behind a stone corner, like a reproved child.

            The doctor touched his shoulder, and Remus turned and continued down the hallway without a backward glance.

            "Moira?  Are you all right?  You look faint."

            "It was like he was looking right through me.  Like I didn't even exist."

            "I warned you.  I told you it was nothing you wanted to see."

            "I know.  But I had to.  I don't know why, but I had to."

            "I understand."  He pursed his lips, throwing a cursory glance down the now empty hallway.  "Come, Moira.  You should get some sleep."  He led her by the arm back to her chambers and left her at the door with a small portion of sleeping drought.  

            Sleep only came when tears no longer would.

            Waking the next morning, she knew Remus was gone.  Even if she hadn't seen him leaving, she could have felt his absence, as if the school had suddenly gone cold throughout.  He was gone.  He was really gone.


	33. Chapter 33

_            "Remus, do you know why you're here with me today?"_

_            "You want to convince me not to hate Moira and Sirius."_

_            "No.  Remus, I'm here to help you.  We don't even have to talk about Moira and Sirius if you don't want to."_

_            "I don't."_

_            "That's perfectly acceptable.  What would you like to talk about?"_

_            "Nothing.  I don't want to talk about anything."_

_            "Nothing?  Come now, Remus.  There must be something."_

_            "There isn't."_

_            "Why don't you tell me about your brother?  Tell me about the day he died."_

_            "Why?"_

_            "Professional curiosity."_

_            "Romulus died when we were six.  We were out playing in the woods behind our home when we were attacked by-"_

_            "By what?"_

_            "A werewolf.  We were attacked by a werewolf."_

_            "Is that when you were bitten, yes?"_

_            "Yes.  It jumped on me from behind a tree.  Romulus threw a rock at it, and it went after him.  The last time I saw him, he was being dragged into the forest."_

_            "Is this difficult for you?"_

_            "What do you think?"_

_            "Tell me, Remus, do you blame yourself?"_

_            Silence._

_            "Remus?"_

_"That he was killed?  No.  I was a kid.  There was nothing I could do about it."_

_            "No.  That you lived and he didn't."_

_            "I don't blame myself.  Guilt, maybe.  No blame."_

_            "Guilt?"_

_            "Like when something really bad happens to someone else, but not you. You feel kind of guilty.  It's not your fault, but you feel like you should have had bad luck as well."_

_            "So you think you should have died too?"_

_            "That would have been fair, wouldn't it?"_

_            "Would you have liked to have died?"_

_            "What kind of question is that?"_

_            "A valid one.  Do you wish you would have been killed too?"_

_            "No.  I'm glad to be alive."_

_            "Why?"_

_            "Is this where we start talking about my childhood?" _

_            "If you want it to be."_

"Albus, how's Remus doing?"

            "Moira, it's only been six weeks.  You can't expect results too quickly."

            "I know.  I just wanted to know how he was doing."   Moira slid into a chair before Dumbledore's desk where he had only moments ago been making notes in the tiny margin of a large leather bound book.

            "I spoke with Anya yesterday.  She said Remus was making progress.  But you must remember, Moira, that that doesn't mean he's cured."

            "I know.  I've studied psychology.  It's excruciatingly slow.  I just wanted to hear some good news."

            "How are you doing?"

            "Me?"  The side of her mouth crooked up into a half smile.  "I feel like I've been put on hold, and I'm doing a little dance waiting for an operator to pick up." 

            "A reference to telephones?"

            "Yeah."

            "Be patient, child."

            She slumped further in her seat, feeling much like a hopeless student who had no hope of passing a class.

            "I've tired.  I really have.  But I'm beginning to feel like- like it wasn't meant to be."  Her bottom lip trembled slightly as she looked off to the side to hide the tears swelling in her eyes.  "Every time I feel like I've finally found him, he's taken away from me.  Maybe the Fates are just working against us.  Maybe it just wasn't meant to be."

            "Moira," Dumbledore said patiently.  "I can't pretend to know what the future has in store for all of us.  What I do know, is that sometimes life is hard for a reason.  It strengthens us when we need it most.  I know this had been difficult for you, and I'm not going to tell you to go or stay.  You must decide what it is that you really want."

            "I know.  That's the hard part."   


	34. Chapter 34

_            "Your nurse tells me you had a rough time of sleeping last night, Remus."_

_            "I had a nightmare, Doctor."_

_            "She says you were screaming.  Care to tell me what it was about?"_

_            "I- I dreamt I was with Moira.  She's a friend from my childhood."_

_            "I know Miss O'Shaughnessy."_

_            "Yes, I suppose you do.  I was kissing her: her lips, her neck, her throat.  And then, I just changed.  I was the werewolf again, but she didn't notice.  I bent down and I- I-"_

_            "Settle down, Remus.  Breathe deeply.  Better now? Can you tell me what you did?"_

_            "I killed her.  I bit into her throat and I ripped it out.  It's not true, is it?  Tell me it's not true.  Tell me she's alive." _

_            "Do you think it's true?"_

_            "I don't know.  That's why I'm asking you.  Please tell me!  What is the truth?"_

_            "Remus, that's why we're here.  To help you discover what the truth is."_

_            "Why can't you just tell me?"_

_            "Because, I don't know what you feel, what you see, what you know.  If I tell you, it would be my truth, not yours.  You might believe it in your head, as something to hang onto, but your heart would always question it.  They would be in conflict, and if you don't mind my saying, that is exactly the reason you were brought to me in the first place."_

_            "But everything in my head is jumbled.  How am I supposed to know?"_

_            "Well, what feels like the truth?  What feels real?"_

_            "I don't know!"_

_            "Alright, alright, calm yourself.  Let's start small.  What do you feel right now?"_

_            "Frustrated."_

_            "Good.  And this morning, before I came in?"_

_            "Scared."_

_            "Good.  Now, what about in your dream?  What were you feeling then?"_

_            "I- I don't-"_

_            "Think about Moira.  What do you feel when you think about her?"_

_            "Anger.  I feel anger.  And betrayal."_

_            "Interesting.  Tell me, Remus, why do you feel angry and betrayed?  Is it because she stabbed you?"_

_            "No.  Gods, no.  I don't even remember that, but I know I had to be stopped.  I understand that."_

_            "Something from before that, then?  You're remembering something.  Tell me what you remember, Remus."_

_            "I don't-  It's pieces.  I don't even know if they go together."_

_            "Tell me.  Maybe we can put it together."_

_            "Her eyes.  I was looking into her eyes near the fire, and holding her hand.  But she loves Sirius.  I knew she loved him, but I couldn't help it."_

_            "Help what?"_

_            "And then she came back.  She kept saying that she knew, she knew.  I told her to leave.  I told her so many times.  Why wouldn't she leave?"_

_            "Remus, are you okay?"_

_            "If only she'd have left, I wouldn't have done it."_

_            "Settle down.  You're shaking."_

_            "I didn't know!  I didn't know until I saw her lying there!  I didn't mean to do it!  I loved her!  I didn't mean to kill her!"_

_            "Remus, you didn't kill her.  Remember?  You saw her at the school.  You didn't kill Moira."_

_            "I loved her.  I loved her so much."_

_            "Breathe deeply, Remus.  Try to relax.  Moira is alive.  You know that.  You saw her."_

_            "I know.  I know."_

_            "Settle down.  Here, lean down.  Put your head between your knees.  Breathe deeply.  In, out.  In, out.  There you go.  Now sit up slowly."_

_            "I'm sorry, Doctor."_

_            "It's alright.  This is very difficult for you."_

_            "It is."_

_            "Tell me Remus, when you spoke of anger and betrayal, was that what you were feeling?"_

_            "Yes."_

_            "Why?  Why do you feel betrayed?"_

_            "I don't-"_

_            "That is not an answer.  Think!"_

_            "I- I keep hearing it in my head.  She betrayed you.  She tried to kill you."_

_            "Is that what happened?"_

_            "No.  It was me.  I did it."_

_            "Is that real then?  Is that the truth?"_

_            "Oh, gods." _

Moira glided through the halls of Hogwarts as it her feet didn't hard stone of the floor.  Her head was held high, almost regally, turning neither left nor right as students passed by her with books open before them or discussing class work with their classmates to prepare for the upcoming finals.  She hardly whispered the password to the stone gargoyle before it leapt aside, admitting her to the staircase leading to Dumbledore's office.

            "Albus," she said when she reached the top, finding him feeding a small brown pellet to Fawkes.  "I going back to the states the week after school is out."

            "Oh?"  He looked up, surprised, as Fawkes snatched the pellet from his fingers.  "When did you decide this?"

            "Last night.  I've left a whole life behind there.  Friends.  Colleagues.  An apartment.  I can't just walk away from it."

            "I see."  He rubbed his hands gently together, displacing any crumbs.  "Have you told Sirius?"

            "Yes.  He agrees it's for the best."

            "I can understand that."  A small smile spread across his lips.  "You can't just sit here waiting for your life to fall into place."

            "No, I can't."  She heaved a sigh.  "I have to do that myself."

            "You've made a decision then?  About Remus?"

            "I have."

            "Then, I'm proud of you.  I know what this has taken out of you.  Would you like something to drink?"

            "Oh gods, yes," she answered, slumping in the chair, all strength finally leaving her.  


	35. Chapter 35

Remus sat up straight on his bed with his feet flat on the floor and his hands in his lap.  His amber eyes stared unfocused at the bare white wall before him.  His thoughts were unreadable to the doctor who peeked in on him through the window in his door.  She made a few marks on her chart, pausing to push a lock of silver hair behind her ear, before addressing Albus Dumbledore, who stood beside her, his blue eyes mirroring the concern he felt.

            "You're sure he's not being rushed?"  He fingered the tip of his beard, a habit he had had for years when he was unsure of himself.  It wasn't done often, but it was a habit nonetheless.

            "No.  He's as ready as he will ever be.  He has learned to weigh what is before him, to make good decisions on which memories are real and which are not.  What he needs now is a familiar surrounding in which to piece his life back together."  Her gray eyes landed on his long fingers twisting about the beard.  "Albus," she said, reaching out and taking his hand.  "He will be fine."

            "You're sure, Anya?"

            "In this field, it's impossible to make promises.  But I have a good feeling about him.  He wants so badly to live a normal life.  I hope he gets the chance."

            "There are advances in potions everyday, Anya.  You, as a doctor, should know that."

            "I do.  But it's not his lycanthropy that hinders him.  It's his guilt."  She stared again through the small window, where Remus had not moved from the bed.  "He is highly sensitive to the people around him.  He bears a great amount of guilt and pain for things and people he had no control over.  I fear it will be his undoing."

            Sirius sat waiting in the living room, his elbows on his knees, for Dumbledore to return to the house with Remus.  He'd been in the care of St. Mungo's for four months, dealing with everything that had happened to him.  Though he could not talk Moira into joining him, Sirius has looked in on Remus a few times, peeking in through the narrow window to see his thin figure reading or writing or merely sitting on the bed.  They had spoken not a word since Remus had first awoken.  And now, he was coming home.  What would happen?  What would be said?  Sirius had considered disappearing for a few weeks, giving Remus time to adjust, but both Dumbledore and Dr. Saluria had talked him into staying.  

He would need help, they had explained.  He would need his support and his friendship.

So here Sirius sat, in wait, absently biting his nails, watching the fireplace.  Suddenly, he heard a low rumble and Remus stepped out from the hearth, followed closely by Dumbledore.  He was pale and thin, his eyes tired and dull as they wistfully took in the surroundings.  Sirius stood when those amber eyes landed on him, unsure what emotion they would reflect or what words would be said.

"Sirius, how are you?"  The words were so generically cordial.

"Good.  How are you, Remus?  You look better."

"I look like hell."  He pressed a humorless thin-lipped smile.

"Remus," Dumbledore said, laying his hand on his shoulder, "why don't you go upstairs and get yourself settled."

Remus nodded and headed up the stairs.  When they heard the creak of his footsteps crossing the ceiling to his room, Sirius spoke.

"Is he going to be okay?"

"Dr. Saluria believes with a little time, he will be much better.  However, it is possible that he will never quite be the same."

"Never?"

"Sirius, what he has gone through will be with him for the rest of his life, just as your captivity in Azkaban will be with you."  The old man's eyes flitted to the ceiling for a moment.  "We are just lucky that his memory does not extend itself to the night at Hogwarts.  He knows only what he has been told and does not remember the details of the horror itself."

"What does he know?"

"Only the basics.  He was taken to Hogwarts and was a danger to the children.  You, Severus, and Moira tried to stop him.  He does not know that he nearly destroyed Gryffindor Tower, nor the extent of the injuries inflicted on you three or the students, though I imagine he has some idea."

Remus turned the faucet and allowed the water to warm up before stoppering the tub to fill.  Steam began to rise about him in the small bathroom as he unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged it unto the floor.  Turning to grab a towel from the cabinet, he caught his reflection in the mirror on the door.

The image seemed foreign to him.  Solemn and shaggy haired.  Only the scars that covered his chest and shoulders were familiar.  A new one had been added, the pink of new-healed skin drawing attention to the three inch scar just to the right and above his navel.  He touched it gingerly, expecting to feel the pain of his cutting flesh, but instead was blinded by images flashing through his brain.

He could hear screams all around him, enraging him, then silence.  Piercing pain.  Wide green eyes staring down at him.  Lips moving.  What were they saying?  Another familiar shadow hovering, pressing down on his body.  Severus?  His lips were moving too, but no words came out.  He was pointing, his hands covered in blood.  The room was cold, unsteady.  Fading.

Sirius grew silent and looked up at the ceiling questioningly.  

"What is it?" Dumbledore asked.

"The water.  It's been running for a long time."

"What of it?"

"The tub's not that large."  He was already moving toward the stairs with Dumbledore right behind.  Water leaked from under the closed bathroom door, spreading across the wood floors of the hallway.  "Remus?" Sirius called, as he pushed the door open.  "Albus!"

The tub was overflowing onto the floor, unnoticed by Remus who cowered in a corner, his arms grasped around his stomach, as if in pain.  Sirius plopped down beside him in the water, gently pulling his head up to see his face.  He was paler now, though sweat rolled off his skin.

"What is it, Remus?" he asked, as Dumbledore turned of the water and pulled the plug from the drain.  Then, with a swish of his wand, he cleaned up the small pond that had formed on the floors.

"I-"  He paused, as if considering a moment, looking back at the worried face of his friend.  "Nothing," he answered.  "It was nothing.  I just feel ill."

"Come, Remus.  You should go to your room and rest."  Dumbledore helped him up from the floor.  "Sirius, so downstairs and make some cocoa, please.  Bring it up in a few minutes."  Sirius began to protest, but changed his mind at seeing the stern look on Dumbledore's face.

"Remus, what did you see?" the Headmaster asked quietly as he helped Remus to his room.

"Nothing."

"Do not lie to me.  You saw something.  A memory from the night at Hogwarts?"

"How did you know?"

"From the look on your face.  It's not the first memory to come back to you, is it?  You are seeing bits and pieces of the things you did?"

"Yes."

"How long now?"

"Just a few days."

"And what do you think?"

"They are most assuredly real."

"And how much do you remember, dear boy?"

"All of it."  His eyes were wide with fear as he reached out to open the door to his bedroom.  "I remember every dreadful detail."

"And why have you hidden this fact?"

Remus turned to stare at the old man before him.

"Because I didn't want it to be real, Albus.  And I knew that if you knew what I remembered, you would want me to talk about it.  I don't want to.  I don't want to bring it up with Sirius or you or anyone else.  You can't possibly understand what it's like to have these memories of trying to kill your friends, and then having to talk to those same friends about it."

"We're all here to help you, Remus.  We all understand that you were being controlled."

"Albus, I would have done those things whether I was being controlled or not.  Don't you understand, I have no control when I am a werewolf!  I am a monster!"

"No, you are not." Albus told him calmly.  "I do not want to hear you say that again."

"I feel like I'm going insane!" he cried, holding his head in his hands.

"You are."

Remus stared up at Dumbledore incredulously.

"Don't you understand, Remus, that unless you deal with these memories and these fears, they will slowly drive you insane.  And that would do even greater harm to those you sought to protect."  He paused, listening for a moment to the footsteps on the stairs.  "I believe that is Sirius with your cocoa.  I will be waiting downstairs.  I strongly suggest that the two of you have a conversation.  Now."

"Now what?"  Sirius had appeared at the door with a large mug of piping chocolate.

"I believe Remus needs to speak with you," Dumbledore answered.  He exited, pulling the door closed behind him.    


	36. Chapter 36

In the passing weeks, Remus began to resemble himself more and more, though there were times when Sirius had found him gently rocking himself in the dark corners of the house as unpleasant memories invaded his mind.  Fortunately, these were few and far between, and in time, Remus could be seen smiling or laughing when he was not pent up in the library writing in his journal.  His journal had become somewhat of an obsession to him, and it was not rare for him to spend several hours alone with it.

In fact, it was here that Dumbledore found him late one evening in mid-June. Sirius knocked softly in the door of the library where Remus had passed most of his days writing quietly in his journal, oblivious to the days that passed him by.

            "Remus, you have a visitor."

            The figure at the desk made no movement, but Sirius noticed he had stopped writing.  Dumbledore stepped past him into the dimly it room.  A candle burned low on the desktop, the only light in a room whose heavy drapes shut out the bright sunshine of a beautiful summer day.

            "Hello, Albus."  He still made no movement to turn toward his visitor.

            "How are you, Remus?" Dumbledore asked quietly.

            "It's been a good day so far."  The quill continued to scratch across the parchment.

            "Define a good day."

            Remus smirked back at the Headmaster.

            "I haven't felt the urge to kill myself or anyone else.  On the whole, I'd say it's been uneventful."

            "Well, it's nice to see you've regained your sense of humor, however misplaced it may be."  He pulled a seat up next to the desk.  "Now answer me seriously.  How are you?"

            Remus considered his old headmaster's face for a moment.

            "I'm better, Albus.  I feel better everyday."

            "Good.  Severus tells me he came to see you last week."

            "He brought the wolfsbane potion."

            "That's what he said.  And that you and he were able to talk for a few minutes.  You've cleared the air?"

            "Yes."

            Dumbledore regarded him quietly, wondering momentarily at the next question he would ask. 

 "And what of Moira?"  Dumbledore asked quietly.  "She wanted very much to speak with you.  Why would you not see her?"

            "I'm just not ready."

            "She believes you are angry with her."

            "Angry?"  He turned in his chair, facing Dumbledore.  The gray wisps of hair at his temples were now white streaks.  "Angry for what?  For stopping me from killing a bunch of innocent kids?"

            "For stabbing you, I believe.  And failing to save you when you needed her."

            "That's ridiculous." 

            "You've not told her otherwise."

            "Surely, you've told her."

            "Many times.  Just as I've told you many times that she bears no anger toward you.  Perhaps," he said, staring straight into Remus' wide eyes, "she needed to hear you say it."  He rose and strode toward the door, pausing for a moment.  "Perhaps it is best this way.  Perhaps it is best for the both of you to continue suffering nobly until you both succumb to the great question we face at the end of life."

            "What question is that?"  Remus was quite frozen in his seat.

            "What if, Remus.  What if?"  The older man pulled the door closed behind him, leaving Remus alone again.  He was hardly down the hallway when the library door opened again and Remus rushed past him.

            "Where are you going, Remus?"

            "To Hogwarts.  I have to talk to her."

            "Ah, I see."  The old headmaster closed his eyes.  "If only."

            Remus turned at these words.

            "If only what?"

            "If only you had come to this decision earlier."

            "Why?  Albus, why?"  He gripped Dumbledore's shoulders, the rise in his voice demanding an answer.

            "She is not there, dear boy," he answered calmly.  "You will not find her at Hogwarts."

            Remus' hands fell to his sides.  He wavered as if hit by a heavy blow.

            "She's gone?"

            "Yes.  She returned to the States the day before yesterday."

            "She's gone."

            "Yes, Remus.  She's gone.  Back to her old apartment and her old life in the U.S."

            Remus' eyes brightened.

            "Her old apartment?  She kept it?"

            "I'm quite sure that's what she said.  She had taken a sabbatical from her teaching job there to come here."

            Roused from his momentary stupor of grief, Remus dashed from the room.  Dumbledore followed him to the foyer where he grabbed his cloak from a peg and pulled his wand from his sleeve.

            "Where are you going?" Sirius asked, emerging from the living room.

            "I have to find Moira.  I have to- I have to tell her-"

            "Then go," Sirius interrupted.  "Go tell her."

            "Thank you," Remus smiled as he disappeared from the room.

            Sirius and Dumbledore, left alone in the foyer, stood silently side-by-side for a moment, staring at the spot from which Remus had just disappeared.

            "That went well," Dumbledore commented with a smile.

            "That was both the most benevolent and the cruelest thing I've ever seen you do."

            "Someone had to push him out the door," Dumbledore said, his blue eyes twinkling.  "Otherwise, I don't believe he would have ever gone to her." 

            "You told her to expect him, I assume." Sirius asked.

            "My dear boy, where's the romance in that?"


	37. Chapter 37

            Remus apparated in the hallway outside Moira's apartment.  It was only then that he realized he had rushed out of the house wearing a very unMuggle cloak and clutching his wand in his shaking hand.  Anyone could see him out here.

            He reached out to knock on the door, wondering all the time what he would say, how he would act.  Gods, did she even want to see him?

            _Perhaps it is for the best._

            Albus knew.  He had seen into her heart.  He should not be here.

            He heard the lock click and the door squeak.  Two eyes peeked out at him through the narrow crack in the door.

            Two brown eyes.

            "Can I help you?"

            It was not Moira.  She was too short and too blonde- and most definitely not Moira.  How was this possible?  Moira was supposed to answer the door so he could plead his case and tell her all the things he had wanted to tell her for years, but this- this was not Moira.

            A huff and the door slammed shut.  The bolt slid into place.

            By Merlin, was this how it would end?  With him standing alone in the hallway like some maudlin character of a sappy novel?

            No, it most certainly would not.  He knocked again and the door, again, opened slightly.

            "What do you want?"

            "Moira," he answered, unaware that his haggard appearance and shabby clothing gave him the wild look of a dangerous man.  The gap in the door narrowed.

            "I'm sorry-"

            Remus' hand shot out, holding the door against the pressure the woman exerted to shut it.

            "Please, I must find her."

            "Let go of the door!" she demanded.  "I'll call the police!"

            He shoved harder, glimpsing the familiar Irish picture on the wall.  Moira's picture.  It was still Moira's apartment.  He pushed his shoulder against the door, gaining leverage to send the woman staggering.  Remus was in the apartment in an instant, his amber eyes taking in the large boxes sitting half filled around the room.

            "This is Moira O'Shaughnessy's apartment.  I demand to know where she is."

            "You've got the wrong apartment, buddy.  There is no Moira O'Shaughnessy here," the woman answered from the floor, her hand scrambling for the small cell phone on the table.

            "Lupin, then," he growled.  "Moira Lupin.  Where is she?"

            "I'm right here, Remus."  He whirled to the left to find Moira standing in the hallway that led to the bedroom.  She stepped forward and helped the blonde woman up from the floor.  "Did you come all this way to assault my friends?" she asked coolly.

            "No.  You know I would never-"

            "Then why are you here?" she interrupted.  Her voice was cold and even.  Her words, measured.  She looked fiercely at him.  Suddenly, he too wondered why he was there.

            "I need to talk to you," he answered, matching his own tone to hers.

            Moira regarded him silently for a moment, betraying nothing in her eyes.  

            "Sara, there's a box in the bedroom I was packing.  Will you finish it for me?"  Her eyes did not leave Remus as she spoke.

            "Moira, I'm not going to leave you in here with this madman!"

            "I'll be fine.  Please?  I must get this place packed up."

            Sara frowned and bent to pick up her phone, then looked pointedly at Remus.

            "If you touch her, I'll have the police here in no time," she warned before backing down the hallway.  When she had disappeared, a palpable silence settled.

            "Are you going somewhere?" Remus asked at last.

            "I'm moving."

            "You're running away again."

            "No.  This time I have a place to run to."

            "Don't play your word games with me, Moira.  In the end, it all means the same.  You're leaving.  It's the same as it was before, isn't it?  The going gets tough, so Moira gets going."

            "Truer words were never spoken by such a hypocrite."  She stepped around him, staying close to the walls so as not to come too near him.  "All this time you've been at home, and you refused to see me even once.  "You spoke with Albus and Sirius, and, hell, even Severus.  And I had to hear how you were doing secondhand.  All I wanted was a minute- even thirty seconds!  That's all the time I needed."

            "For what?" he baited.

            "For what?  To tell you I was sorry!  I put a-" she lowered her voice, aware there was another in the apartment.  "I put a damn sword through you.  I needed to see that you were all right- with my own eyes!"

            "I didn't want to see you."

            "No shit?"

            "I couldn't.  Not after the way I treated you."

            "Oh, but you could see everyone else?  How convenient for your ego!"

            "I didn't try to kill everyone else personally!  I remember what happened that night you came to see me.  You think I don't feel guilt for that?  I do!  Every bloody day I hate myself more!"

            "You self-loathing bastard," she spat.  "You stand here in my apartment that you forced your way into and tell me that you put me through hell all that time so you could continue to _hate yourself_?"

            "Would you rather I hated _you_?  Because you nearly _killed_ me?"

            "What?  You want revenge?  I'm sure I have a knife around here somewhere."  She motioned toward the boxes already packed.  "Sorry, I'm not sure I have a comparable sword."

            "That's not why I'm here!" he yelled, wrapping his fingers around her arms.

            "Then why _are_ you here?" she countered, pulling free.

            "Because I thought-"

            "Thought _what_?"

            Remus stared at her, dazed for a moment at what he so deeply needed to say to her.  Her hands were balled into fists.  Her face was flushed as she watched him, waiting for an answer.  He lowered his eyes to the floor.

            "Because since the first time I met you, I've been in love with you," he answered in a small voice.  "And I couldn't bear the thought of going another fourteen years with never telling you, wondering if I'd missed my chance once again."  He couldn't bear to look up at her, to see her glare at him with those angry gems of eyes.  Even when silence settled over the room, and even Sara could not be heard in the back bedroom, he did not raise his eyes.  "I'm sorry."  

He moved slowly toward the door, ready to escape rather than hear her scathing answer.

            "Why-?"

            "I didn't mean to lay this on you like this.  I thought-"

            "Remus."  Her hands were touching his, pulling him back toward her.  Her long finger hooked under his chin, lifting it so he could not avoid looking at her.

            "No.  I wanted to know- why you haven't kissed me yet?"  Her eyes were shining.  Her voice, a whisper, was trembling.

            His eyes widened at her words, and for a moment, only a moment, he wondered if all this was true- if it was really happening.  Before his mind could argue with his senses, he reached out and gently caressed her cheek with his finger.  It was warm and smooth and exactly what he had imagined so many times, but for the tear slowly making its way to her jaw.  Moira reached up and laid her hand over his as his thumb gently touched her lips, lingering just long enough for his lips to replace it.  Her hands reached up, pulling him closer to her so their bodies were in contact.

            No words were spoken as the kiss broke.  They simply clung to each other, rejoicing in finally having found each other, after having only known each other for so many years. 

"Don't go," he whispered into her red hair.  "Come back to Britain.  Come back to Hogwarts, but don't leave me again.  Don't ever leave me again."

The warmth, the comfort left as she pulled away and looked up at him, locking his gaze.

"Remus, I'm not leaving Hogwarts.  I only came back to clean out this place and resign from the university."  She touched his wet cheek.  "I'm not leaving.  I promise, I'm not leaving.  I love you."

He grinned broadly, unable to restrain himself.  

"I love you, Moira."

FIN    


End file.
